<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368</id><updated>2011-09-15T08:47:19.777-07:00</updated><category term='disabilities'/><category term='embarrassment'/><category term='cancer'/><category term='education'/><category term='travel'/><category term='Art Honeyman'/><category term='cerbral palsy'/><category term='public school'/><category term='social faux pas'/><category term='shipment'/><category term='no child left behind'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='start of school'/><category term='spectacle'/><category term='dementia'/><category term='health care reform'/><category term='debacle'/><category term='word play'/><category term='language'/><category term='standardized testing'/><category term='fall'/><category term='sandwich generation'/><category term='academic expectations'/><category term='aging parents'/><title type='text'>Notes from the Peanut Gallery</title><subtitle type='html'>A blog from a teacher, Quaker, former motorcycle mama, and Charm School dropout.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-5730879624245827365</id><published>2010-12-19T18:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T18:52:51.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 15</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"&gt;I am learning that we never know what each day will bring. I leave my phone's ringer off at school and usually check it some time toward leaving for the day; every minute otherwise is jam-packed. Recesses are filled with students staying in to finish work. I rush to use the bathroom before the hordes come down the hall (fifth grade socializing starts the minute they enter the hall together and stops – if we insist on it - when they reenter the classroom). &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"&gt;So it happened that on Tuesday I had an appointment right after school, and rushed off without checking messages. I had another appointment for a massage right after the first, so looked at my phone and saw that Dad had called. I took a minute before leaving the hairdresser to listen to his message, and discovered Mom had been taken to Emergency by ambulance that morning. I was pretty shaken up, and called him back. Bear in mind, he didn’t call the house phone where Steve could get the message, or the school phone where I’d be notified right away.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt;"&gt;He got a call from Mary Alva’s (her former foster home) saying she was running a fever and had a suspected bladder infection, and they had called for the ambulance. At the hospital they determined that she had no fever; in fact, her temperature was below normal. The culture for the urinary infection was negative. Her blood pressure was off the charts due to the very upsetting experience of being hauled out of the place on a stretcher and being subjected to the ordeal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;Next, Mary, the owner of Mary Alva’s Senior Class informed my dad that since she was already out of their facility, he should find a new provider for her. So my dad was faced with putting her in Columbia Basin nursing home in The Dalles. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;When I expressed dismay that he hadn’t contacted me directly, he replied, “You’re talking to an 81 year old man here. I can’t be bothered with trying to do that”. It’s such an indication of how he’s functioning. I tried to explain to him that I needed to call my next appointment to let her know that I was cancelling; in addition, I got a call from the contractor doing weatherizing on my home and had to deal with that. He got upset with me and said, “I don’t have time to deal with this (my interruptions). I am going to walk the dog and get on with my life. I’m exhausted.” &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;And hung up on me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;I drove up to Sheri’s, my therapist, and sat in her lobby, trying to collect my wits. I reflected that the emergency was over – Mom was settled for now at Columbia Basin and Dad was off with the dog. There was nothing, really, I could do. In my new frame of mind, trying to take care of myself being more a priority, I decided to get my massage.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;After returning home, I called Dad. He had settled down a bit. I told him I’d come over on Wednesday. The next afternoon I got a message from him on my cell and called back at about 3 PM. He invited me to join him for an intake appointment at Columbia Basin at 3:45. When I called him, he said, “Never mind. I changed my mind – I’m going to try to get her into the VA Home.” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;“Dad, wouldn’t it make sense to keep the appointment and give yourself time to look around and make a decision based on what you see in the different options?” I asked.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;“I guess you’re right”. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"&gt;At that point, I had to pack up the computer quickly. The trip to The Dalles is often made at 70 rather than 65. Even so, I pulled in at the same time he did. We met with Glenna, a very nice social worker who helped him fill out the enormous stack of papers needing signatures and initials many times over. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-5730879624245827365?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/5730879624245827365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-15.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/5730879624245827365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/5730879624245827365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-15.html' title='December 15'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-126795672248246438</id><published>2010-12-05T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T21:41:14.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>December 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I went to see Mom today after Quaker Meeting. Jeff, a Friend, came over to visit. It was really nice to sit with the two of them. She said, “Well, Jeff, I don’t get to see you as often as Shannon”. That was interesting. Anyway, I hope he realizes that she doesn’t have perspective or memory, really. Bottom line – she remembers&amp;nbsp; us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;She has a little stuffed dog on her bed that someone brought. She was petting it, so I asked her if it had a name. She said it was Buffy. Some will remember they had a dog named Buffy who got lost on one of their trips to Arizona. It was sweet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dad and I had a set-to tonight. I’m the daughter on the scene, so if he’s going to have conflict with someone, it’s me. He is very worried about finances and what happens when the money runs out. It’s totally understandable to be worried. So far, he hasn’t actually spoken with anyone who could help him figure it out and take action. I suggested he might want an advocate to go with him, as it’s overwhelming and draining. You also can’t stop at the first twist of the red tape, but have to persevere. It’s not a situation that can’t be fixed, but he needs to get on it. So, I’m seen as a meddlesome person who doesn’t think he can make decisions. AAAHHHH. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;We had a good walk afterwards, and when I came home I called a friend of his who worked in the field of services for seniors for his career. Dad will listen to him; he’s knowledgeable, he’s a man, and he isn’t family. He said he’d help us out. What’s more, he’s retired. Dad might eventually wonder why Doug always shows up after he and I&amp;nbsp; have a disagreement. Don’t any of you tell him why!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;They say one day at a time, for good reason.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-126795672248246438?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/126795672248246438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/126795672248246438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/126795672248246438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/12/december-3.html' title='December 3'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-893266691289586045</id><published>2010-11-29T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T21:17:24.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>We had a nice Thanksgiving at Mom and Dad's house. Although I was sad that she wasn't there, we did enjoy being together and preparing the meal. And eating the meal. And cleaning up after the meal. And eating Joanie's pie. Everyone helped. Dad was glad we were there. Chris' daughter Athena provided the entertainment. Mom fell asleep early; by 5:00 visiting her was done. It was great to &amp;nbsp;have Margaret, Stan, Dune, Joan, Steve, Chris and Athena there to share the day with Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kirsten and I saw her yesterday for lunch. She did a pretty decent job of feeding herself tomato soup with crackers, plus a bit of Greek pasta salad. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes she needs a little prompting; she forgets what she's doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had trouble tracking well today. I realized the other day that the stories we know are the ones we're going to get. &amp;nbsp;I asked her about Oe (her great-aunt), who lived with us until her death when I was almost 5. Mom lived with her grandmother, her step-grandfather and Oe when she was young. I knew that Rodney (grandfather) had been a prospector but I had thought it was a hobby. She said he was a miner. It was probably at &amp;nbsp;the copper mine around Salt Lake. &amp;nbsp;Oe &amp;nbsp;had lost her legs in an accident. Mom said she was a pedestrian and was struck. She did remember those things, but I was hoping for something new. I guess the lesson is ask while you have the chance. We have some of those things down but not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom was an only child until her teens when Grandma Dee married Charles Rhodes (Rhoads?) and Bev came into her life. They enjoyed running around together. I'm glad she had that; she really did have a sad childhood. The years with Oe and grandma and grandpa were good, but the years when Dee and Jack pulled her back to live with them after abandoning her at her grandma's doorstep were very sad. She said that she was taken from what she knew as her home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and I are alike in that we didn't really learn to be happy until we got older and got over a lot of life's troubles. Neither one of us get to go back and change anything, either. If I'm lucky, my family will try to understand as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-893266691289586045?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/893266691289586045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/893266691289586045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/893266691289586045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-6484633410296074126</id><published>2010-11-23T06:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T06:00:43.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Visit</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Mom was in her recliner this morning, magazine on her lap. She doesn’t track what she’s reading, but she still can make out the words on the page. Awhile back, she had a beautiful book from &lt;u&gt;Birds and Blooms&lt;/u&gt; on her lap (from Joanie). It’s good to have something like that, large illustrations and few words. She said aloud the caption, “red tailed hawk”. It’s interesting, the skills that stick and the ones that are left behind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The lunchtime visits are usually the easiest; evening brings on some anxiety and weariness. Susan or Becky gives her something for the anxiety when she has trouble. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kirsten is so good; my youngest spent a few years doing CNA work. She also did a lot of nursing prerequisites, and is really tuned in to the needs of her grandma. It’s better for her to visit by herself, though, because if we’re together she turns to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I need to bring her a coffee next time; I’ll share a mocha with her. She still enjoys her java.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-6484633410296074126?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/6484633410296074126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/sunday-visit.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/6484633410296074126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/6484633410296074126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/sunday-visit.html' title='Sunday Visit'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-2757358551138679687</id><published>2010-11-14T00:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-14T00:10:28.362-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dementia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sandwich generation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aging parents'/><title type='text'>Mom</title><content type='html'>Summer is long over; &amp;nbsp;we are moving into Thanksgiving now. The last few months have brought big changes in our family. My mom is 86 and suffering from a variety of illnesses. The most life-threatening is a fatty liposarcoma in her abdomen. It has recurred after 5 years, the first time growing to 10 pounds and taking a kidney and part of her colon with it on removal. No one knows how long it will be before it interferes with her ability to digest food or does other damage. She never recovered her strength after the first surgery. She has gotten progressively weaker over the last few years, using a cane, then a walker, and finally in August lost the ability to even do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The culprit that may have hastened that is the same one that causes her to say, "Happy birthday!" when I walk in on an ordinary Thursday after work to help her with her dinner. Her dementia had been slowly getting worse, but something happened and her grip on what you and I call reality loosened all at once. &amp;nbsp;Maybe in some strange way it's a gift. She doesn't remember now that she has a tumor and as far as we know it will be the end of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor dad has it the worst. He is doing amazingly well, trying to figure out how to live in their house without her. He is learning that no matter how upset she might get with him, she won't remember in ten minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hospice took her off their services last month. It's not because she's getting better; she is getting worse slowly. &amp;nbsp;Her caregivers are wonderful and help keep her comfortable and well cared for. Her world is one hospital bed and a recliner chair because she can't sit up in a wheelchair anymore. The other sweet ladies at the foster home ask about her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What keeps this from being absolute hell is the fact that she has medication to keep her relatively pain-free, she is a happy person, and we have a lot of support from friends and family. Also, she says some really funny things. &amp;nbsp;Last time I saw her, we greeted each other and I asked her how she was. She said she was fine. "I'm training for a new job". Ok, I'm game, so I asked her what it was. She said, "Data entry". &amp;nbsp;She had been a social worker from her 40s on. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The really great thing is that she still remembers us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-2757358551138679687?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/2757358551138679687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/mom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/2757358551138679687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/2757358551138679687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/11/mom.html' title='Mom'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-286199519499481572</id><published>2010-07-03T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T21:05:00.237-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='word play'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='language'/><title type='text'>Logolepsy - May You Be Spared</title><content type='html'>I recently joined Library Thing ( &lt;a href="http://www.librarything.com/home/Peanuts1958"&gt;http://www.librarything.com/home/Peanuts1958&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;); dangerous, I tell you! Not only are there endless numbers of books and people who like words, there are games to be played! I joined one group where the challenge was to find 5 not well known words of an insulting nature. I wrote this little ditty from my search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beldam (n. - a repulsive older woman) had quite a borborygmite (n. - a dirty mouth, or practitioner of spurcitious--foul and obscene—language) and was given to pathomimesis (n. – malingering) which explains why she was a pentapopemptic (n. - divorced five times. ) It caused great pentheraphobia&lt;br /&gt;(n. - fear or dislike of one's mother-in-law) in her daughter’s husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair, I should write one for the male gender, but that was enough for one day. There were so many amazing words on &lt;a href="http://www.kokogiak.com/logolepsy/ow_l.html"&gt;http://www.kokogiak.com/logolepsy/ow_l.html&lt;/a&gt; . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple highlights: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;crapulous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;adj. - given to gross excess in drinking or eating; debauched intemperance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;coprolite &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n. - fossilized feces. coprolith, n. hard mass of fecal matter. coprolitic, adj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n. - vigesimation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;n. - killing every twentieth person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(now, I ask you, why is that word even necessary? Is this a biblical thing?&lt;br /&gt;Happy verbiage!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-286199519499481572?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/286199519499481572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/07/logolepsy-may-you-be-spared.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/286199519499481572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/286199519499481572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2010/07/logolepsy-may-you-be-spared.html' title='Logolepsy - May You Be Spared'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-251712162217655446</id><published>2009-10-31T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T10:20:08.433-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='academic expectations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='education'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='standardized testing'/><title type='text'>Friends Don't Razz Friends Who are Teachers</title><content type='html'>Last night at dinner, a couple of friends were questioning the release time from school the district has provided due to the adoption of a new, complex math program. I understand that it's inconvenient for parents to have to make other arrangements for their children. However, math is no longer 2 + 2, as my friend so glibly asked me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elementary school children are expected to tackle concepts that in the past, students didn't touch until middle school, at least. Oh, excuse me, junior high. That's another thing that has changed. Further, 3rd graders (on up) are expected to prove their answers to problem solving tasks, and to be able to explain how they solved them. We are covering geometry, algebra, coordinate graphing, you name it...I teach fifth grade, and it is amazing. Let us remember that each year in Oregon the benchmark for passing the state test keeps being raised, NOT lowered, as another friend stated - baldly untrue. And just because you hear it on the radio don't make it true! (Grammar error on purpose! What would we do without teachers teaching grammar!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow this link to get a taste of what fifth graders have to know these days: &lt;a href="http://www.ode.state.or.us/teachlearn/testing/samples/math_gr5_sampletest08.pdf"&gt;http://www.ode.state.or.us/teachlearn/testing/samples/math_gr5_sampletest08.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing unethical about a practice test, by the way - this comes from the state, and students have to know how to deal with multiple choice questions, deal with testing on a computer instead of paper/pencil, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a little steam coming off the top of my head...I wish I could remain calm and try to correct their misperceptions, but I work too damn hard to hear that - and these friends kn0w it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-251712162217655446?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/251712162217655446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/friends-dont-razz-friends-who-are.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/251712162217655446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/251712162217655446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/friends-dont-razz-friends-who-are.html' title='Friends Don&apos;t Razz Friends Who are Teachers'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-421019525055864675</id><published>2009-10-25T19:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T19:29:51.834-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shipment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>Haku the Traveler</title><content type='html'>So, Haku the dog has left for Mexico. After a long and complicated process, he has gone to join his primary owner Megan. It was really hard for me to put him in that crate and walk away from the cargo shipment center. I know how many bewildering hours he has ahead of him; a night in San Francisco at a "pet motel", a long flight to Mexico City tomorrow. Megan will be there waiting for him and he will be thrilled. I hope in the end it was harder on me than on him. He is one of the most loving dogs I've ever known. Thankfully (I think - fingers crossed) I am done with the horrible muzak on the United Cargo shipment line. I knock on wood and hope Murphy didn't hear me. I miss him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-421019525055864675?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/421019525055864675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/haku-traveler.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/421019525055864675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/421019525055864675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/haku-traveler.html' title='Haku the Traveler'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-4045898760418834913</id><published>2009-10-22T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T19:25:02.944-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Art Honeyman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disabilities'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cerbral palsy'/><title type='text'>Two in one day?</title><content type='html'>Why not? I'll make up for lost time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow night is a memorial for an amazing man who changed my life. His name was Art Honeyman, a friend of my parents at Portland State in the '60s when they returned to college as older students. Art was a young, rebellious, gifted writer with severe Cerebral Palsy. I had the honor of meeting him when I was only 10 or 11, and got to see the man behind the disabled body; his mouth  could hardly form words but his mind was full of brilliance. I loved writing, and he shared his writing with me. He also gave me a couple of books he'd had when he was a child (which I still have). I consider him my first mentor as a writer, and he's a huge reason I became a special education teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years went by between knowing Art as a child and rediscovering him again as an adult. He had a booth at Portland Saturday Market for a long time. I bought one of his children's books about being a child with CP, and still didn't see him hardly at all. A number of years ago I happened to be at Saturday Market, and there he was. I got in email contact with him, and saw him a time or two. We emailed and he shared a chapter of a book he was writing with me. I found out by accident, more or less, that he'd passed away last December. He was a secondary character in a film called &lt;u&gt;The Music Within, &lt;/u&gt;about a disabilities activist who was at PSU with Art. In searching for info about the film, I discovered his obituary. I was so sad that I had no connection to his life and no way to reach those who also knew him. Much to my surprise and delight, I received an email "from Art" a month or so ago. His friends at PSU invited people in his address book on his computer (as well as those closer in the loop) to come to a party, a celebration, for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we get to remember a wonderful man whose platform for student government was Spastic Power. I will remember him always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.valleyoflife.com/blog/art-honeyman-author_2008_12_11/"&gt;http://www.valleyoflife.com/blog/art-honeyman-author_2008_12_11/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oregonlive.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2007/07/art_honeyman_hits_the_streets.html"&gt;http://www.oregonlive.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2007/07/art_honeyman_hits_the_streets.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-4045898760418834913?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/4045898760418834913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/two-in-one-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/4045898760418834913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/4045898760418834913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/two-in-one-day.html' title='Two in one day?'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-1708074127106882236</id><published>2009-10-22T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T14:12:17.044-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='no child left behind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='public school'/><title type='text'>My bad</title><content type='html'>OK, one of my friends noted that I haven't been here blogging since....too long. I will share some random thoughts, probably influenced by being sick all week. I can't promise it will make any sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The year has started out very challenging for all of us at school. The schedule is like being on a hamster wheel, and we have so little control any more of what we do. There are times I don't feel that a master's degree plus 45 credits means anything at all. I might as well be a trained automaton. It's sad and frustrating. It starts out with No Child left Behind and works it way down from there. It doesn't feel like best teaching practices. In the meantime, I have to remember it's young human beings here, the whole child...it's a huge responsibility. I love the kids or I wouldn't be here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-1708074127106882236?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/1708074127106882236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-bad.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/1708074127106882236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/1708074127106882236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-bad.html' title='My bad'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-6125855507398650605</id><published>2009-09-14T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:18:40.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School, Week 2, Monday</title><content type='html'>I really will try to keep the school whining down to a minimum, but after all, this is one of those "it's my party" sort of things. Things have changed so much in 25 years of teaching - we used to have a lot of freedom and room for creativity. Everything is now so regimented; I'm locked in to a schedule I really have no control over - the good part is that the specialists have common times to work with kids who need the help. So, everyone who teaches fifth grade math does it at the same time, as with reading, etc. It leaves precious little flexibility. Since I am coordinating with a co-teacher in our bilingual program, we have that layer on top of the rest. It is exciting to see how much language these kids have learned in the last 3-4 years, I will say that. They are learning how to relate culturally in a deeper way, too. That's the good part.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-6125855507398650605?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/6125855507398650605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/school-week-2-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/6125855507398650605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/6125855507398650605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/school-week-2-monday.html' title='School, Week 2, Monday'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-5548186977120435234</id><published>2009-09-12T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T12:23:45.739-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarrassment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spectacle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='debacle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='social faux pas'/><title type='text'>Most Embarrassing Moment</title><content type='html'>Last night may top the list of embarrassing moments in my life. I went to dinner with S and two male friends (whose spouses were out of town). We had a lovely dinner, and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;waittress&lt;/span&gt; complimented us on how well-behaved we were - compared to the last time! That's what makes the following even funnier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were getting up from the booth, S said his hat was on the floor. It was near the wall. I gallantly offered to retrieve it, and lay down on the bench, stretching for it. As I am short, that meant really laying down on it. Turns out the bench was NOT attached to the base but merely set upon it. I felt the bench sliding toward the floor, pushing me off and under the table....I was trying to figure out what the hell was happening, heading for the table base in slow mo...pinned between the table top and the bench! The table &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;began&lt;/span&gt; to tip. People were gasping, "Is she all right?!" The crash of glasses, plates, and silverware followed, which all landed on the opposite seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was extricating myself as quickly as possible - STILL HOLDING the offending hat in hand as I crawled out from between my rock and hard place. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;waitress&lt;/span&gt; said, "We'll get that fixed right away!", no doubt envisioning the next lawsuit. I gave him his hat, and strode out the door of the restaurant, my face burning. Our little group let me know this incident would be repeated many times in legend and tale...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's your most embarrassing moment? Can you top this one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-5548186977120435234?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/5548186977120435234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/most-embarrassing-moment.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/5548186977120435234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/5548186977120435234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/most-embarrassing-moment.html' title='Most Embarrassing Moment'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-8228087590861400401</id><published>2009-09-11T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T22:57:04.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Funny from the Kids</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We brought together the two classes of fifth graders learning Spanish. To introduce themselves, they needed to tell a partner how they were given their names. Of course, this is all in Spanish. One boy was introducing his partner, and basically said his parents got his name off a kleenex box. We all started to howl - 46 kids and two teachers. He had really said it was off a brand of Irish Cream, not kleenex. A boy after my own heart...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-8228087590861400401?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/8228087590861400401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/todays-funny-from-kids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/8228087590861400401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/8228087590861400401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/todays-funny-from-kids.html' title='Today&apos;s Funny from the Kids'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-3203394230068412106</id><published>2009-09-11T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T22:51:45.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Date No One Wishes to Remember</title><content type='html'>This day can't be ignored. I heard on NPR this afternoon that NYPD now has a Muslim chaplain and they are doing a lot of outreach. It was really very positive and hopeful. There was an Arabic police officer who was interviewed. He said he had great support from his fellow officers, asking if he was all right or suffering harrassment. He did mention that someone screamed at his wife to "go back where she came from", but that she was born in Brooklyn. That was also closer to the event, and feelings were probably still high, but understanding one another is a place to begin to heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to imagine myself as someone who lost a loved one that day, and knowing I can't speak from that kind of pain - I would never try to pretend I know what it is to be in those shoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-3203394230068412106?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/3203394230068412106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/date-no-one-wishes-to-remember.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/3203394230068412106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/3203394230068412106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/date-no-one-wishes-to-remember.html' title='A Date No One Wishes to Remember'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7616031973519248368.post-7113320638119603188</id><published>2009-09-10T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T12:18:39.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health care reform'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='start of school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><title type='text'>Brand New Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Wow - here it is, a clean, fresh page all stretched out before me. I'm not sure if it is virginal, or just a reflection of the blank state of my mind. In any case, I've threatened to start a blog - mostly because I want to share with you all my very important and no doubt correct opinions about almost everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;School has started; I am back teaching 5th graders. I drag my feet at giving up summer (much as do they), but when they walk in the door I'm very happy to be there. Today's funny tidbit: a boy had a scab on his nose which came off. I told him to get a tissue to dab at it - the next thing I know he is looking at his reflection in the faucet on the sink to check it out. How can you help but laugh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Underlying my thoughts and settling on my heart right now is the knowledge that my niece is once again fighting cancer at 43 years old; a hard fight, numerous surgeries and resurgences. My massage therapist's husband is in the end stages of life with a brain tumor; he's had two years since the diagnosis, and his wife and two children (still school-age) walk this last road with him. I am so sad...The great news is that one of our young friends has been found cancer-free after her second surgery and resulting treatments for a brain tumor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My sister-in-law is cancer-free, thank God. She was dropped by her insurance, and because of her preexisting condition may not be able to get coverage after COBRA runs out. Do I think we need health care reform? Yes. Do I think it's a backdoor way for the government to control everyone's lives? No. Will it be perfect? Undoubtedly not. However, consider the consequences of inaction. I burn when I think of the wealth lining the pockets of folks in the "industry" who don't have anything to do with care provision. I wonder which plan to choose by Tuesday, because my premiums have increased 25% this fall. And I am lucky, because I do have health insurance in the first place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Thanks for letting me unload.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7616031973519248368-7113320638119603188?l=peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/feeds/7113320638119603188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/brand-new-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/7113320638119603188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7616031973519248368/posts/default/7113320638119603188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanuts-notesfromthepeanutgallery.blogspot.com/2009/09/brand-new-blog.html' title='Brand New Blog'/><author><name>Peanuts</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17074109409161366532</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
