...a celebration

My children threw a going away party for me on Saturday. On Friday, the when they got to town, the weather was gorgeous. We were sure that the next day would also be perfect for hanging out in the park. It was not to be. On Saturday we woke up to rain and wind, but we were still confident that it would clear up by 2:00. No such luck. At 1:30, instead of driving to the park to set up, the kids went to tack up a sign letting everyone know of the venue change--we'd gather in my apartment instead. Luckily, I've been steadily working at packing things up, so it didn't take long to stash odds and ends upstairs and push the couch to the side. We were nervous though. Would people see the sign? Katie updated Facebook, and I sent out text messages. We'd have an awful lot of food to eat if people didn't come! (Arlene prepared all the food--her ginger cookies are to die for!)I was worried, but not for long...they saw the sign and got the word--party at Sue's place! Over 30 people came through my door. A friend I hadn't seen in at least ten years had said she couldn't make it--but she did! Such a fun surprise. Current and former coworkers, a few former students, neighbors, family, and friends all crowded in. Midway through the afternoon the sun came out, so we opened the patio door and spilled out into the backyard. Good memories were shared and more were made.

...music

I married a man who could tell you the name of every song, artist, and group from our generation and most from the one before. He loved (loves?) music and spent (spends?) hours in front of his stereo system with earphones on, creating mixed tapes of his favorites. My son inherited his dad's musical memory (although I don't think he spends quite as much time absorbed in it). I, on the other hand, enjoy music but it's not my passion. It's a rare occasion when I can name anything associated with a particular song. Oh, I can sing along when I hear one I know, but don't ask me who the artist is. While the man I married had (has?) all the latest electronics for listening pleasure, I have always been content with the radio or a small CD player. Nothing high-tech at all. It was a great day when I discovered Pandora. I just had to know ONE artist that I liked and they would do the rest! And, with the advent of Blogger, my one-stop, lazy musicologist mind has discovered that I can open fellow bloggers blogs and listen to (and enjoy) all kinds of music--some familiar, and some that I would never have found on my own. Thanks, Rochelle and Jeff! Oh, and Leslie is usually good for a song or two. Thanks, Les!

...the good ol' days

I've been busy sorting, tossing, scanning and packing in preparation for my new life. One cupboard of my classroom was full of photo albums. Twenty two years of memories. I decided to scan some of the photos and toss the rest. It has been a delightful walk down memory lane. I usually scoff when someone refers to the past as "the good old days," but I have to admit to some nostalgia for "back then," when I first started teaching at the high school. Back then I had a high-ceilinged, drafty old room with tile floors. We could have a bubble-fest and not worry about the mess. I wonder if I'll have a tile floor in my new classroom?

...being a goose

Jesus dropped the F bomb just as he stepped inside my classroom door. I responded with "the look." He said, "Oops, my bad!" I said, "How about you apologize in a way that is meaningful to an old fogey like me?" He looked puzzled for a second, then his face lit up. "You're a GOOSE!" Whaaat? How is that an apology? After a bit of back and forth we communicated. He had meant to say that I was a "geezer." Goose/geezer--both start with G and have the s sound in the middle. What's one to do but laugh? (Oh, and I did get a real apology.)

...the last time

I can't remember when I first starting helping out at the track meets at Podunk High, but it was many years ago. Nor can I remember when it was that someone asked me if I would mind announcing--the regular wasn't available, and no one else was willing. I knew close to nothing about scores, heats, flights, final calls, and open pits, but it didn't matter. I wasn't afraid of speaking into the microphone, and that's what counted.

Before long, I was the regular announcer, the Voice of the Vikings. I learned to watch the field and judge when to call the next event, keep an eye on the head coach (someone always wants to talk to the head coach), listen to requests from the hand-held radio, all while sharing stories and laughs with the scorers in the booth. There was the time that I forgot to turn my mic off and broadcast something far and wide that should have been kept between the ladies and me. There was another time that I asked everyone to help place the hurdles on the orange marks. A cantankerous coach from a neighboring school bellowed up at me, "They're FLESH colored!" I wanted to ask him to look around and tell me just whose flesh was the color of those orange marks--but I refrained myself. For several years after, "They're FLESH colored!" was all it took to set the booth crew giggling. My children both participated in track, and I had a birds-eye view of all their events. It was perfectly ok to lean out the window to cheer them on--sans microphone, of course! (I wonder if anyone noticed the change of inflection in my voice while announcing the winners when one of them scored in the ribbons? It couldn't be helped.)

I announced my last track meet today. The season isn't quite over for the kids, but this was the last home meet. Next year, someone else gets to be "The Voice of the Vikings." I hope they enjoy the job as much as I did.

..spring? Maybe?

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(I have no idea who gets credit for this, but it fits NE Oregon to a T!)

..evening rides

The sun is shining. The wind's not blowing (much). Sunset isn't until 7:38. Guess where I'll be at 5:30?