Herd of Turkeys

   


    Five turkey hand prints from five special girls. Bean's turkey is the velociraptor turkey, ready to eat people first. Abu's turkey is almost as big as her sister's, which is crazy to me because they're growing up way too fast.
    CT's is the decorative one. Bug's has running shoes on. And Baby Blueberry's is small and cute.

   And before people remind that birds come in flocks, please know that Bean knows this-- that's why she wrote herd. :-)

   Because I know people have read many blog posts about gratitude, I'll sure fatigue must be kicking in so I'll keep my thankful list short before I hand over the rest of the blog to my guest blogger, Abu.

Simply.   I'm thankful. For everything.

Now for Abu's guest blog: 

       Nov. 26

       from: Abu the turkey

       to: person who wants to eat me

       Dear Person,

               You should not eat me. I am high in cholesterol and fat. I'm salty and don't taste good but I know someone who taste good. There's a Duck across the pond who taste good and has a lot of meat. Yes, his name is Aflac and he taste really good. He might offer you free insurance but don't take his offer. He is far more tasty than me and he taste a lot better than his deals.

            What's that you say? You want turkey this year. I got to go!!

Abu   

God's Grace

You can't hold onto a box of broken promises because no matter how many pieces you have in your hand, you can never glue them together.

   They never become whole.

And you can lie to yourself for a long time that it doesn't matter.

but it does.

It does matter.

And each broken promise is another feeling of resentment that grows and grows until it builds into a rage.

And rage is so destructive.

Until one afternoon, the only thing you can do is fall on your knees and ask for God to help.

Because something has to change.

I'm not holding onto a box of broken promises anymore.

Lois Lane was Heavily Caffeinated

      I have switched from my usual 12 measly ounces of coffee to consuming- well, it depends. If I brew it, than I tend to finish off the entire pot. If I decide on ingesting the stronger more potent brew of a coffee house, than I've been purchasing a 20 ounce cup. Not sure what name that is at Starbucks. And why is it that they seem to think their cups are better because they use words instead of units of measurement?
     If I was to rename Leftovers Night something exotic, like The Meal That was Formally Known as Last Night's Dinner- it's still leftovers.

   It's only been a little bit over a month since I started the Lois Lane gig and I have to say- it's a bit exhausting. And I'm only working part-part time. Well, getting paid for part-part time, I'm sure the hours are a bit longer. (With that being said, I already had a busy schedule with starting my own business, raising three kids including a baby, and volunteering as treasurer of Abu's PTO.)
    There is a certain thrill though, for seeing a person's name, in black ink on newsprint. It's such an old-fashioned and traditional method of recognition for a writer in this age of digital fonts and computer screens.
    I've also enjoyed interviewing people in my community- learning new things and of course, since I'm writing about food, pretending to partake in the fine dining experiences that I must live through in the words I write...and ignoring the growing thought in the back of my head that I must experience eating -Vanilla crepes stuffed with mascarpone cheese and fresh raspberries -drizzled with a black Chambord reduction. - I didn't even know what Chambord was but it all looked divine.
    I'm still thinking that Lois Lane would have snitched a crepe when the Chef left the room to bring out the other dishes.

   On another note though, I was reminded that having a job also means you might get chewed out- which is a lot different than your kids screaming at you- in that situation you have the upper hand. In the job world, you have to play it cool and act like you really have time to deal with the problem when you were about to make lunch for three hungry children that were close to starting a riot unless they received food. 

    I have to say I didn't cry when I was told that one of the Chefs I interviewed was quite upset at me for a miscommunication over the photography shoot. I've grown up since the last time I was in the official job world, but I was concerned that I had messed up while dealing with a extremely popular Chef in town and a well known business owner. 

    Ouch! Don't mess up a little bit, Christy- just a lot.

    As it turned out, the problem was not on my end of the communication. Whew! But we'll see if that Chef ever wants to interview with me again. 

   On the home front, Baby Blueberry is insisting on turning off the X-Box 360 whenever her sisters are playing Minecraft. 

    She's one stubborn kid, which will work wonders for her in life...not so much for Bean's and Abu's video game playing. 

     And I have found out that part of Gibson's thrill to chewing, isn't just chewing as indicated by the fact that he was quickly bored with the nondestructive toy we finally found him. Nope, he loves chewing things into small pieces. 

    I think he might be part goat. 

     He has also discovered a love of crayons. Eating, not coloring. 

   Which he passed onto Baby Blueberry and her diaper yesterday was a wild assortment of pastel green and red. 

     

    So Lois Lane meets Motherhood. I'm pretty sure no one will know that I was conducting a phone interview while nursing the Baby.

Moth Dog versus the Middle Schooler...I mean the homeschooler

  

       When I was Bean's age, I had the unfortunate experience of middle school. If I was writing a horror novel; middle school would be the bad guy. It would be some huge building that comes alive and eats innocent elementary students.
     I'm sure middle school doesn't stress everyone out like it did for me. I would even bet some people...gasp...liked it.
     And perhaps part of my problem stems from the fact that I was in elementary school one week; then my parents moved to a different town and half way through the school year I found myself in middle school.
    
     Drowning. Definitely overwhelmed and out of place.

    On top of that I had a bat shit crazy teacher. And I'm not trying to be unkind, I have compassion for her now, she really did have some issues. Perhaps related to drugs but I don't have any proof.
     But she would stand on a stool and scream at us...at the top of her lungs.
     And then when she was done with that she would pick up the metal stool and bang it against the floor...over and over again. I think my ears are still ringing.
    Why she was never stopped or even just fired I'm not sure. The only thing that would make sense is that this was a harsh school, with difficult children and perhaps it wasn't possible to find teachers to work there.
    So the principal would turn a blind eye to what was happening in our classroom. She needed help though, not a classroom full of fifth graders.

    I tried to keep "My Tales from Middle School Hell' under wraps so as not to unduly influence Bean. She heard about some of them, not all and not very often.

    Bean has still been struggling with middle school. Not struggling in the fact she can't keep up, struggling in the fact, as she phases it, "My head is going to explode from boredom if I have to sit there one more minute. And oh, my science teacher talks in monotone monologue. Oh, and my English teacher, who I love as a person, is now brain dead and stares off into space as she lectures us. Oh, AND my math teacher is screaming in our faces and asking us why we don't understand the problem."
         Uh, because she's screaming at you instead of teaching the material. I mean I'm not an expert in education but it would seem to me, and I'm just going out on a limb here, but if someone was screaming at me, I probably wouldn't be learning at that point either.

      I have spoke to the school until I'm stomping around my living room, muttering words under my breath, and in general saying things I can't repeat here. No, we don't have advanced classes, thank the budget cuts. No, we can't mix up 7th and 8th classes. No, she can't have orchestra and choir even though we said she could but then we changed our minds and 'you just have to deal with it.' (Their words.)
     No, we can't really give her a gluten free meal even though legally we're supposed to. And legally we are because we're giving her a baked potato every day. Job done.
    Yes, she has to participate in PE with an ankle that is injured and you have seen a doctor for. Because we're more worry about attendance than your child's body.
      No, we're done requiring reading of literature and she won't be writing much either. Oh, and in math they get to use calculators for everything. So my advanced math student can't do math without a calculator and no one cares because we have them -why shouldn't we just make life easy and just use them.
     She can't do long division because the school's math is a bit fuzzy.

     Apparently, middle school hasn't changed since I went. Oh, and what happened in 7th grade??? Oh, yeah, my parents pulled me out and home schooled me.
      Which meant I graduated my the time I was 16, was given full tuition scholarships for college and was even asked to TA a biology class in my third semester of college.
      Then I made stupid choices, like dropping out of college and not finishing my degree, but that's another tale.

       Anyway, the moral of this long tale...Hero Hottie and I have pulled Bean out of middle school and are home schooling her.
      Urgh!!! I'm not sure what I have agreed to yet!!! The situation is starting to remind me of the show Survivor. And Bean and I are stuck on an island together and we might just get to the point where we try to vote each other off.   

  Here's my soap box disclaimer: The following paragraph contains strong ideas and opinions. (  And I'm not trying to pick on the public school system. I'm a big believer in education period. But education is not just the job of the school system but of the parents. Studies have shown that kids with supportive parents learn more. Excel more. I know, as a volunteer at Abu's elementary school, that supportive parents can do so much for our students. Education should be the responsibility of everyone. If we made choices in our community based off education and raising kids. Not to spoil them, I'm not talking about giving them whatever they want. I'm talking about the value of education. Not South Korea style. But more than what we have... it could be amazing! So I don't want to just ditch out on my school district. But I also believe that if a school isn't working for a student and a family wants to take the education home and do it there- Then that is their right. Until we had an organized education system in this country, it was usually the mom who made sure her children knew how to read and write. It was parents and communities that built schools and paid for the teacher. Home schooling and being responsible for our children's education is not a new concept. I'm really disappointed that our middle school has failed us at this time. But I can't fail my daughter and I feel like if she can't do long division, or math without a calculator, than I'm failing her.)
     
      In the mean time Gibson has earned himself yet another nick name. Moth Dog. Because he likes to chew tiny, perfectly round circles in anything cloth. Blankets, pillows, couch cushions, and oh, yeah my favorite hat.
    Which not only did he chew a circle size hole in, but he removed, with surgical precision, all the little cute pom poms on it.
       I know he's bored. People have suggested we get another dog.
       And my only reply?

      Are you nuts? I can't handle the one I have!!

     We will just muddle through this winter until spring when we will be putting up a tall fence and this Moth Dog can run around like crazy and eat weird things off the ground, and bark at deranged squirrels chirping at him, and chew up hoses, and toys and large branches from trees.
      Probably dig some holes and hopefully not figure out how to jump the fence.
      Did I mention we're going to put in a VERY TALL FENCE?

       Muddling is probably a good word for me right now. I just started writing for our local newspaper. Channeling my inner Lois Lane. It's very EXCITING!!! My first article published was about squash which is a very yummy subject. And did I mention that my NAME WAS ON IT!! I'm actually quite shocked.
         And it almost didn't happen if it wasn't for my little cheerleader, Abu, who tends to always encourage people to do their best. She pushed me into applying for the job, which I was too scared to try, and WOW! Here I am, earning money off my writing. Which feels real good!

        So my week continues and when asked about the turn of events, Moth Dog simply tried to eat the Baby's shoe, Bean's toes, and oh, yeah escaped out the door again.
        
        Until next time, remember coffee, prayers and friends. 
         They're the best cures for moments of insanity!