looking for a job?

"Love sports, strong women and have some free time?? Do you lose your voice during other sporting event screaming at a referee's "bad call" and think....I could do that? We are looking for dedicated people, male & female, age 21 or older to train to become a FW Derby Girl referee. If you are unaffected by angry, screaming skaters and can handle a small bruise or two, then we'd love to meet you. Please click on the coaches/referee contact link above and tell us about yourself. Some skating ability is preferred."

Hmmm....a roller derby referee? Now there's an exciting job!!

I managed to talk a friend into heading to Fort Wayne last night to catch Fort Wayne's Derby Girls taking on a Canadian team from Hamilton City, Ontario, as well as, an Indianapolis team called the Circle City Rollers. Roller Derby was a new experience for me. After getting an explanation of the rules and a demo before the first bout, it was actually quite exciting. I do have to admit there is somewhat of a "professional wrestling" feel to the whole experience which mostly has to do with the fact that each player has a pseudo name and sports accessories such as fishnet stockings or hot pink bloomers.

Here is a sampling of the type of names we are dealing with here:

• Vicodoom
• The Pink Painther
• Perky Set
• Develyn Side
• Dicey
• Pushy Cat

How popular is this sport? Well, lets just say it was a sold out crowd last night at the Collesium. Nuts! But tons of fun!

high school - round 2

The last two weeks I've been substitute teaching in a high school resource classroom. Students come in and out all day to get help with their regular classes. All of these students have some sort of learning disability and receive a variety of services from the teachers in this classroom.

The time I've spent in the "learning lab" helping students understand Algebra I, Algebra II, Geometry, English, Business Math, and Biology has been a stretch for me. I feel transported back in time to high school. Studying Odysseus's seaward travels, plotting algebraic equations, figuring out dimensions of packing materials, working punnet squares to determine genetic traits. And I'm hearing from the English teachers that the poetry unit is coming up. Yikes!
Maybe when I finish this maternity leave position, I'll be eligible for an additional high school diploma.

My time here will last through mid-March where I will then move to a Biology/Anatomy classroom in the same school to fill in for another teacher until the end of the semester. Dissection and all!!

You know you live in a small town when...

1...after filling out a P.O. box application form, the postal clerk says, "Oh, so you're moving into Bob's house, eh?" Startling. No where on the form had I written my grandparents names, just their house address. This guy is good, real good.

2...upon introducing myself to some students studying at a table in the special education room where I am now working, one of them says, "Are you related to Steve, the realtor?" I replied that he was my dad, and he continues with, "I need to talk to him!" Okay, that was a little too much. Here is a 17 year old student who evidently is interested in fixing up old houses, and wants some purchasing advise from my father. Weird.

3...as I was bending down to pick up a 4o lb bag of dog food that I had just paid for at the Wal-Mart register, I hear, "Hey, ex!" What? I turn and look, and there is my ex-neighbor, Dave, shouting out a friendly greeting. I was a little taken aback, being that the term 'ex' could be associated with just about anything, but most commonly, ex-spouses. He quickly realized that yelling out the word 'ex', in the middle of Wal-Mart, was a bit awkward and immediately corrected it with "ex-neighbor", as I looked up to see who was addressing me. Hilarious!

4...you get mistaken for your brother's wife. Wait till you hear this...I was called to substitute teacher in one of the local elementary schools for gym class. I arrived and was directed by the secretary to call the gym teacher to get the lessons for the day. When I called her (she happens to be my old elementary gym teacher), I first gave her my name and then asked her what we were going to be doing for the day. She immediately starts with, "So, are you Evan's, Leslie?" I started to answer yes, because I had no idea what she was talking about, but then I corrected myself and told her I was Evan's sister and Steve's second daughter. She proceeded with, "I heard Evan married a Leslie, so you are his wife?" Um, no. I'm his sister, Evan actually married an Emily. There are two Emilys in the family, not two Leslies. Her next remark continued to confuse me, "Oh, so who are you?" I couldn't think of who I was, besides Evan's sister and Steve's second daughter. So I just repeated that statement. The connection must have clicked after that, because she immediately exclaimed, "Oh, are you the hiker?" Whew, we got that cleared up, I guess. I'm 'the hiker', here in Rochester, evidently. Good to know.

Moving Day

Imagine that - I've moved again. Four times in 365 days. And for the first time in four years, I can't haul all my belongings in my Jimmy. Makes for more of a headache on moving day, eh?

After reflecting on my random and sporadic moves hither and thither, I've made, what I consider, a wise decision to get a P.O. box this time around. At least for the next 6 months. So if anyone needs my address I'd be happy to send it your way. Just shoot me an email.

the beauty of frigid temperatures

I've missed ice skating. Ever since I moved away from Indiana (2001), the timing of my return at Christmas has been too early to reap the benefits of lake frontage in Indiana winters. So year after year, I would gear up for my flight home to Fulton County at Christmas time, hoping this year would be the year the ice would be thick enough for a long overdue ice skating adventure. And time and time again I was disappointed. Only to get a phone call a week or two after returning to everyday life in North Carolina, Montana, Washington (wherever it was I was living) to describe the depth of the ice that had now formed on the lake.

To the best of my ability to recall past events, I haven't laced up a pair of ice skates since I was 20 years old. Now crunching the numbers, and doing the arithmetic, that calculates out to be about 11 years of winters absent of the beloved activity of ice skating.

This realization lead me to endeavor the great task of shoveling about ten inch deep snow off of a small section of frozen Lake Manitou. Thankfully Dad made his way out to the rink to aid me in my obsession. And together we carved out of snow a perfect little rink. Admittedly, a small rink for ice skating, but just enough ice to enjoy on skates.

neighbors

I wonder how many people have "good" neighbors? I've often wondered that. I've lived in a variety of places, in some different situations. I've observed people, neighbors, neighborhoods. And sometimes I'm saddened by the hurried life that we seem to live. The time crunch is such that we forget to be good neighbors. I look forward to a time when I can live in a place long enough to be a good neighbor and have good neighbors. Here are the kind of things I'm thinking of -

A good neighbor is the person who will...

• willingly lend you baking ingredients
  
• offer to pick up your mail when you are away
• initiate a friendly chat across the fence
• invite you over for dessert or coffee
• help you move something heavy or awkward
• smile

It is a stretch to reach out to people that are outside of our circle. But if each of us did, in our neighborhoods or cul-de-sacs think what a different feeling we would have when we stepped out of our cars after a long day at work. We would be greeted to smiling faces and friendly waves. To real conversation, not just the same ole' small talk. I would eat that up. That's a place I would want to live, year after year and decade after decade.

This blog was prompted by my new neighbor who walked over, introduced himself, welcomed me to the neighborhood, and helped me carry furniture from my car into the garage. Unbelievable! You inspire me, neighbor Dave. I want to be more like you.

the hometown is calling

As we all know, moving is routine for me. So here it goes again. A week from Friday I'll be packing up my clothes, some food, a dog, a few houseplants and piling it all back into the Jimmy to take a drive to Rochester, IN, the county seat of Fulton County, and my hometown.

Moving back to my hometown will be great; familiar faces and places, family (plus the new addition - Baby Jane), old friends. But at the same time it will be completely strange. I've been trying to process this move mentally and I don't really know what to make of it. On the one hand I'm really excited to start again in Rochester, where I got my initial start in life. But on the other side of things I don't really know how I'll fit back into life there.

I'm trusting that this chapter in my life will be another satisfying jaunt. My life has been full of them, I'm lucky, I know. So I go with no preconceived notions of how life looks for me in Rochester. Just an understanding that it will all work itself out.

outcome, not surprising

I always told myself I'd never in my life substitute teach.

I've since realized that the phrase, "never in my life", shouldn't escape my lips....ever. I don't know how it happens but, just as soon as I am dead set against something, all of a sudden, through twisted circumstances I am staring that "something" right in the eyes.

And so...of course, I am a substitute teacher.

In case you have never entered a school as a substitute teacher let me share a few things about what I've picked up on in my three weeks of work.

• It is definitely as bad as it sounds.
• There are some bright spots, but they are few.
• Lots of kids hate substitute teachers just because they are substitute teachers.
• God gets me through the day, not my self-acclaimed wit.
• It is the closest feeling I've had to being invisible.
• High schoolers act like middle schoolers.
• A substitute has almost zero authority walking into someone else's classroom.

I still haven't figured out why semi-retired, 60-something year old ladies are the majority of substitute teachers. This would literally be the last place I'd want to spend a day when I am 60. I come home feeling like I've just been in a psychological battle all day, with a couple of sucker punches thrown in there at some point.

I hope I'm not crushing anyone's spirit who was planning on making a career out of substitute teaching. I'm just saying if that person is you, you might want to develop a back-up plan.

adoption

Like so many of my friends and family have done past and present, I made a big decision this year. I've adopted! Okay, the adoption that I am associated with is largely different from that of which my friends and family have been involved with, but similarly I've taken the responsibility to take care of an orphaned being. That this being happens to be four legged, furry, and will not be able to carry on a conversation in English...ever, are some of the differences that stand out. Here is how it all went down.

This year has been one of many surprises, and by the end of October when I was packing up my belongings to move on to my next place of residence, I quickly realized that I had acquired four houseplants and a pet. Now you have to realize that I've been working my whole adult life to avoid houseplants and pets, not because I hate those things (I actually enjoy both, quite affectionately), but in active knowledge that to take care of these things will affect the pack-up-and-leave lifestyle that I so cherish. So you can imagine the constriction on my heart that took place when I realized the weightiness of the situation!

The houseplants I accepted from others either as gifts or as a favor, but the dog...hmmm. Jasper came to the farm in April, abused, neglected and starving for food as well as attention. Since no one on the farm cared for dogs, I was unanimously put in charge of trying to "make a farm dog" out of him. I'm still not sure what that means. Months later after working with him diligently, and sharing time and space I began to realize that it would be hard to walk away from him. I was in trouble.

I searched and searched for a home for him, everyone I met I asked if they needed a dog. I literally asked every local member of the farm if they wouldn't mind taking Jasper home. Poor bugger didn't have any takers.

Therefore, last week I officially adopted Jasper, and we both left Victory Acres. He's done well adjusting to life in a pen, rather than 'free range'. And I was forced to buy him a dog sweater (which I was so annoyed about) but in his defense, he was constantly shivering.

So although it is a big hiccup in my life having a pet, I'm going to brave it and give it a go. I know he needs me, and truth be told I probably need him a little bit too.

eye catchers

I spent some time outside last week, enjoying the warmth and finally a reprieve from October's deluge. Though most of the fall colors were gone, besides the few bradford pear trees around, there were some tidbits of beauty that caught my eye.


white oak leaves fallen on a bed of brown leaves

wild blackberry leaves stand out from the drab grasses

locust thorns showing off the new growth