Saturday, August 25, 2012

I Couldn't Help Myself. You Just Look So Cute Swingin' That Pickaxe... Chain Gang Looks Good on You, Freckles.

A few weeks ago I had my haircut. My wonderful Sister-in-law is very good at cutting my hair and has done in several times. This time I wanted it cut a little more than I usually do, just to make it even with the bangs I've been growing out for a few years. She cut it with her amazing skills, then asked if she could try something new; instead of just the usual trim, adding a few layers. I said yes. In the end the layers didn't work out, so she had to cut my hair even shorter to cut out the layers. And then a little more to make it even. And then a little more. The result: I no longer have long hair. My hair is now short. I haven't had my hair this short since I was seventeen. Still, people tell me it looks cute and it is a whole lot easier to maintain, so no complaints. It's just hair and will eventually grow back out to my comfort length.

I'm blogging about this now because of this amusing conversation I had with my Sister-in-law this last week. I hadn't seen her since she cut my hair.

Sister-in-law: Oh! You chopped off your hair!!

Me: Um... You chopped off my hair.

Sister-in-law: You haven't cut it since then?

Me: Nope

Sister-in-law: Did I cut it that short?

Me: Yes.

Sister-in-law: Oh. (pause) It looks cute!

Which made me realize that is the only adjective people use to describe my new look; cute. It makes one wonder...

Sunday, August 12, 2012

An Armed Guard, Here. A Little Rent-a-Cop with a Nine Millimeter on His Hip

I do not like dealing with security guards that stand outside of smaller airports and enforce the "no waiting!" policy of the loading/unloading zone. I understand the "no waiting" policy. I don't understand ego maniac security guards who treat the curb like Fort Knox. My first bad experience was at a teeny tiny airport. It is so tiny, the arrival gate is about ten feet from the closely-guarded "no waiting!" curb. I waited in the short term parking until the plane landed, then maneuvered the car next to the curb. I was too quick. I could not  see Drek coming off the tiny plane, and the security guard knew it. He came up and angrily tapped on my window. "Can't you read the sign? No waiting! Get out of here! This is a small airport! Make room for people who don't have to wait!" Which, was actually funny, because I was the only car in the entire airport. There was no one to make room for. 

The next time was at a much busier airport. The guard was so much meaner, and it was a much more terrifying situation, in which I ended up circling the airport seven times, because the people I was trying to pick up were not waiting on the curb, but on the bench back away form the curb, and I could see them, but they couldn't see me, and every time I tried to get their attention the guard (who had singled me out, and looked for my car) would yell and shout and chase me off. Terrifying. 

But sometimes those guards are not crazy ego maniacs. Sometimes they are just security guards, trying to make sure everything runs smoothly. When Drek left on his adventure, he drove us down to the airport, parked on the curb, and then unpacked all his stuff from the car. I got out, we hugged and said good-bye, and then he went into the airport. I got in the driver's seat, turned on my GPS, put on my seat belt and ...realized Drek had taken my keys with him. Oh no! 

I jumped out if the car and ran to the nearest security guard, who was laughing and chatting with another security guard. 
"Excuse me, I have a small problem. I just dropped my husband off, but he took my keys with him. I need them back, but I can't move the car without the keys..." I pointed to my car. 
He smiled, nodded, and said "Hurry. We'll keep and eye on your car." 
I ran inside, found Drek right away, stole another kiss as well as my keys and headed back to my car, thanking the security guard on my way out. 

This morning I packed Ash in the drove to the airport. Last night I had a few nightmare about terrible security guards becoming drunk with power and turning into tyrannical monsters, reigning over their curb with blood and bullets, and decided not to risk it. I paid for parking and went inside the airport to wait at the bottom of the escalator for Drek.

I spotted Drek before he stepped on the escalator, but Drek was looking past us, out the windows and onto the street, looking for our car. Once he got to the bottom we were two feet in front of him. He glanced right at us and didn't see us. He actually had to step around Ash and still didn't realize we were there until I called his name. By that time I was laughing too hard to give him the proper welcome I had envisioned for the last nine days. 

In any case, welcome home, Drek! We are so glad you are back!

Friday, August 10, 2012

For, Behold, You Should Not Have Feared Man More Than God

On Sunday I taught my Sunday School class (the twelve turning thirteen and thirteen turning fourteen year-olds) a lesson on Peer Pressure. After looking through the manual (stories about just say no! Let's role play!) I was board.  I decided my kids would be too.

I wrote my own lesson to achieve the same purpose. This was it: 

My kids have a problem with getting to class on time. They wander in five, ten, and fifteen minutes after class is officially supposed to start. A few weeks ago, three girls wandered in two minutes before the class was supposed to end. It's a problem. I've started doing little things to change that: give the first ones treats, start the lesson early... but for this class I simply waited until there were ten of them and then said this: 

"Because you are the first ones here, we are going to play a little game on the rest of the kids. Jay was here first so he is the leader. Every time I tap the chalkboard twice, Jay will pick a different position to sit in; maybe legs crossed, maybe leaning back in the chair...Whatever it is, copy it. Stay in that position until the next time I tap on the chalkboard and Jay changes his position. Now, try to get the other kids to conform to the same position. You can whisper to cross their legs or signal to them to copy you, but you cannot tell them about Jay, the tapping, or what you doing. If they directly ask, don't answer." 

It was great. Twelve more kids came in and we started. A few weeks ago I had ask them to write down questions and I devoted this class to answering them. Everytime I started on a new question I would tap the chalkboard twice. Jay started out subtle (chin on hand, leaning back) and finally ended by sitting on the floor. It was such an obvious thing, that as soon as the other kids moved to the floor, two of the "unknowing" kids moved too, almost instantly. Most of them hesitated or laughed or questioned before moving down, and one kid looked around, asked what was going on, shrugged, and announced that he was a rebel. He then laughed and sat on the floor. I was timing it. It took 31.4 seconds for the twelve kids to give into peer pressure and conform to the other ten kids without any explanation. 

I then asked each one of them why they had sat on the floor, and not one could tell me. They all shrugged and said and said something like "Because everyone was on the floor". Or "because I thought we were supposed to." One kid got creative and said he thought it was time to pray. 

I then told them the lesson was on peer pressure and explained the experiment. We then read and discussed three amazing scriptures:

And that was the lesson. 

Monday, August 06, 2012

Count to Five

Drek is off an an adventure and left me Ash and I at home. Normally, this is not a problem. Ash and I have fun with just us girls, but this time...not so much.

Saturday I took Ash to a birthday party at the park. Two hours into it I realized I had left the stove on. I rushed home, turned down the street (no flames! Good sign!) jumped out of the car, did a ninja roll and...smelled smoke before I had even opened the door. I dashed inside, ran to the stove and turned it off, grabbed the blackened pot and took it out back.  Nothing burned down, but the house smells terrible. It brings back memories. Memories leaving a kettle on the stove at the Krayola box and going out to a three hour long play, coming back and finding the kettle melted to the stove and the house smelling like smoke. Memories of leaving the stove on in our first apartment after we were married and trying to get the smoke smell out for days with efforts that included mopping the ceiling.  Hey, maybe I should stop leaving the stove on.

Saturday night I had a night terror. I haven't had one of those in years. It was awful. And I couldn't shake the terror felling for the rest of the night. I was terrified that someone was trying to break in. Terrified. I spent most of the night holding Ash with one hand (she slept through the whole thing) and clutching my car alarm in the other; you know, because if someone broke in I could press the button and my car alarm would sound and either scare the intruder away or alert the neighbors. Anyway, it was a truly awful night. I hope never to repeat it.

So, anyone want to have a sleepover at my house? Maybe for the next week?