Airplane Etiquette

I landed safely in Houston sometime around 11pm last night. Except for my mad dash to Denver International Airport during rush hour traffic, my trip was relatively uneventful. That is, unless you would have spent an hour or two in my head. Apparently, I have an unspoken set of rules for the person or persons sitting next to me on an airplane....and the guy seated next to me last night was completely unaware that these existed.

Listed among my set of ideal flying conditions is the rule that no one has permission to share my seat, and lifting the arm rest to acquire a little extra wiggle room is completely out of the question. If there is no room for your wiggle, then it might just be time to put down the complementary peanuts and hit the gym.

I am also a firm believer that any child under the age of 14 should travel with a healthy dose of Benadryl. Or a muzzle. Of course, this rule will more than likely change if I ever have children of my own. Until then, I prefer to pass judgement on others and pretend that my offspring will be perfect.

A new rule that I acquired just last night is that anyone with unusual eating habits should not sit next to me. I'll be honest here and tell you that one of my weaknesses is the inability to ignore bizarre restaurant behavior. Apparently, this carries over to airplanes. I had severe eyeball strain by the time we landed in Houston because of my efforts to discretely gawk at my neighbor's savage attack on a tuna sandwich and Fritos. I still haven't fully recovered.

Speaking of landing in Houston, I would like to point out that I'm pretty sure my face melted off about thirty miles north of town as a result of the humidity. I'm still not sure why I continue to pack moisturizer when I come home.

Truth be told, I am thrilled to be here. There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be than home for the holidays!

Believe Me

One year ago this past Tuesday, I was riding to church with my friend Kari. It had snowed the night before, but none of the roads in our area were plowed yet. Because it was early on a Sunday morning, very few people were out. Most of the snow was undisturbed from the night before, and I remember thinking that EVERYTHING was white. It was so beautiful and incredibly peaceful.

I'm pretty much a regular at the 11am service, but we went to the early service that morning. After church, my small group met for lunch. Then, I headed home. Seconds after I walked through the door, my phone began ringing...and ringing...and ringing. I think I might have ignored the first couple of calls because I was desperate for a nap. But the third or fourth call led me to think that something might be wrong. And it was.

While my small group was enjoying a leisurely lunch, an angry gunman had walked onto the campus of our church. By the time it was all said and done, Matthew Murray had taken the lives of two young girls and injured several others. Miraculously, he was taken down by one of our security guards before he ended his own life and before he could do further damage.

I'll never forget turning on my television and watching policeman with their guns drawn, ducking behind cars in the snow covered parking lot where I stood a short time earlier. And, I remember watching SWAT officers moving stealthily around the church I was sitting in...worshiping in just moments before. It was surreal. And dark...a stark contrast from the blanket of white that had greeted us that morning.

The weeks that followed were life changing for me for a number of reasons. At the time of the shooting, I had been without a job for a couple of months. It was a desperate and frustrating season. My faith felt weak, and I was struggling to believe that God was in control. Obviously, my situation paled in comparison to the grief endured by the families who had lost loved ones, but the Lord graciously used the Works family who lost two daughters on that tragic afternoon to teach me a valuable lesson.

It was a Sunday prayer and praise night about a month after the shooting. I happened to be sitting across the aisle from David and Marie Works and their youngest daughter. I remember watching them as they worshiped unashamedly and thinking to myself that God was so absolutely in control of their situation....that He was going to be glorified through this tragedy. I was confident of it. I was also sure that God had to be preparing our church for something very special. Not only had we endured the tragic events of December 9, New Life Church had also lost its founding pastor in a scandal that was broadcast on every national media outlet just 13 months before. It had been a difficult year. Yet, there was great hope and anticipation.

In that moment during worship, I believe the Lord spoke to my heart. I was convicted as He pointed out that I was willing to believe Him corporately, but that I was unwilling to trust Him personally. In other words, it was easy to believe that He was in control of the events facing my church family and the Works family, but I was struggling to see that He also had great purpose in the circumstances that were pressing down on me. It was another lesson in trust, and it brought me back to the verse God used when He first moved me to Colorado Springs.

"You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "and my servant whom I have chosen, so that you may know and BELIEVE ME and understand that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor will there be one after me. Isaiah 43:10

"BELIEVE ME"...for a job, a purpose, finances, for a ministry, healing, a spouse, a hope, a future, for those times when you need to be rescued, encouraged, protected, loved. "BELIEVE ME" when the unthinkable happens, when life doesn't make sense, when you can't see a way out, when there seems to be no end in sight. "BELIEVE ME" to be in control of EVERY situation you encounter EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.

God is FAITHFUL, and He WILL cause ALL things to work together for good. He is worthy to be trusted...even in the face of tragedy.

Rescue 911

**UPDATE**
For those who have inquired, my firemen might have been single. I'm not really sure. They were nice looking in a lovable uncle sort of way. I'm pretty confident that "posing for the 2009 Hot Firemen Calendar" wasn't on their list of to-do items that morning.

At 7:22 this morning, I was ripped from the clutches of a deep and peaceful sleep by the violent ovation of my fire alarm. Actually, all THREE of my fire alarms. My first thought was, "My neighbor's alarm clock is really loud today." My second thought was, "Did I drink a small ocean of water before I went to bed last night because I REALLY need to go to the bathroom?"

When I finally realized what was happening, my bladder and I frantically began searching my condo for any sign of a fire. After assessing the situation and confirming that I was in no sort of imminent danger, I made a quick dash to the little girl's room to take care of business...while still being serenaded by the reality that something was very wrong. Looking back, it saddens me to think of where I chose to spend what could have been my last few moments of life. I mean, really.

Even so...with all necessary agenda items completed, I quickly grabbed my cell phone and called 911. For all I knew, the condo above me was on fire and mine was next.

I ran upstairs to awaken my neighbor and to check the perimeter of the building all the while sporting the most hideous ensemble of clothing known to man. Because I'm a layers girl, I had thrown a William and Mary sweatshirt and chocolate brown winter coat over a treasured turquoise blue CFISD t-shirt that I received sometime before 1998. Of course, no outfit would have been complete without my grey Polk Panthers sweatpants, white athletic socks, and khaki Crocks. Oh...and my purse.

I continued the play by play with my 911 operator as I searched for any sign of a fire. I found nothing. After trying unsuccessfully to awaken my upstairs neighbor, I headed back into my condo only to find that the alarms had stopped...just as my doorbell rang.

I opened the door to find two of Colorado Springs Fire Department's finest...one carrying some sort of ax. I considered suggesting that he use it to destroy the three fire alarms that had wrestled me from a peaceful night of sleep but gave in to my better judgment.

I explained to them the situation, at which point they tried to convince me that I probably just needed to change the batteries in my alarms. To their credit, at that moment I DID look just stupid enough to have not considered that possibility.

Certain that he had correctly assessed the situation, the fireman with the ax climbed onto one of my chairs to change the battery in smoke detector number one. As he disconnected my fire alarm, he discovered a sizable amount of water standing in the cover....which he proceeded to dump onto my carpet. Apparently, a water leak had caused the system to short out, setting off all three alarms in a harmonious chorus.

Clearly, I was no longer the girl who didn't change the batteries in her smoke detectors, I was the concerned victim of a flood. Feeling somewhat validated, I squinted my eyes and nodded intently as the firemen began to debate the source of my leak. The conversation did not last long, however, and I was soon left alone in my leak ridden home considering whether or not I should contact FEMA. I didn't.

Sticks and Stones

In case I haven't mentioned it one or forty times, 6th graders tend to push me to the brink of a nervous breakdown most days. I mean everyday. I recently had this conversation:

6th Grade Girl: He called me the "B" word.
Me (to 6th Grade Boy): Did you call her the "B" word?
6th Grade Boy: No, I called her a Big Nose because she called me a Ping Pong Head.

Being the professional that I am, I immediately began scrolling through my mental library of appropriate and effective responses to ABSURD accusations and conversations. Unfortunately, I could only come up with "Go sit down, and please...just STOP TALKING."

Three's

Okay, I admit it. I have been known to be a tiny bit stubborn from time to time.

My parents LOVE to tell this story...

When I was probably three or four and learning to write my numbers and letters, I consistently wrote the number three backwards. My mom and dad tried tirelessly to convince me to change the direction of my three's but to no avail. We had many conversations that went something like this:

Mom/Dad: That's very nice, but your three is backwards
Tiffany: No it isn't. That's how I make my three's.
Mom/Dad: But, a three is supposed to face the other way.
Tiffany: Okay, but this is how I make MY three's.

End of conversation.

As one might imagine, my childhood (teen years, college years, post-college years...) proved to be quite a challenge because of my unwillingness to back down...from anyone or anything.

I would like to point out here that my strong will has, in fact, saved me from a few fashion disasters over the years...such as the skinny jean. I meant it when I said that I will NEVER wear skinny jeans. Quite frankly, I believe they are a fashion mistake for just about anyone. On the flip side, my strong will probably left me with extraordinarily large bangs a season or two past their prime...as I was convinced that they provided a "classic" look.

But I digress...

Fortunately, the Lord placed people in my life along the way who began to teach me to turn my strong will into a determination to follow Christ. My stubbornness was not a curse but a gift that was being misused. While I know this to be true, there are still moments where I find myself refusing to change the direction of my three's.

Case in point...

I am a teacher. And, most seasoned teachers know that when given a suggestion or task by an administrator, it is okay to smile and nod in agreement...and then do whatever you want to do. This has worked well for me over the years...until now. I now teach in a special program in our district where many eyes are watching my every move. I can no longer blend into the crowd and do my own thing. I must give up control and CONFORM even when I think MY way is better. This has been more difficult than I care to admit. It seems that lurking around every corner is another test of my willingness to surrender and to CHANGE.

Come to think of it, life in Colorado has been one giant confrontation with life not done MY way...the way people drive, communicate, educate, decorate, eat, think, dress, worship, spend money, prioritize, and on and on. While entirely frustrating at times, living here has been an opportunity for the Lord to stretch me in areas of my life where I have held on too tightly.

And He has.

SO MANY TIMES, I have wanted to pack my bags and move back to Houston...because that would be easier. And SO MANY TIMES, the Lord has convinced me that He wants me to trust HIS plan and to stay. Change is NEVER easy, especially for Yours Truly who likes CONTROL. But, I have found that a willingness to surrender only leads to greater peace, increased contentment, and a deeper trust in Jesus Christ.

And a correctly constructed number THREE.

Disclaimer...
By no means does this imply that I intend to end the discussion of my bizarre life in Colorado. I am willing to make changes, People, but I will not surrender my quest for an acceptable pedicure, a restaurant that stays open past 9, or a well manicured lawn. Or an appropriately sized pumpkin for that matter. Change is one thing, but complete disregard for sensible living practices simply crosses the line.

10-0!!

I just returned from a GREAT weekend in Lubbock where I got to cheer on my Red Raiders as they went 10-0 Saturday night! WRECK 'EM TECH!!! The town is CRAZY, and it was SO MUCH FUN to be a part of the excitement.

Because I recently had to purchase airline tickets for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, I decided a few weeks ago that DRIVING to Lubbock (after school on a Friday) seemed like an okay idea. Fortunately, I enjoy a little peace and quiet after school, so I managed to suffer through the 7 1/2 hour ordeal. My excitement about the game even led me to find a way to entertain myself for the trip's entirety. This included convincing those on the highway with me that I am an untapped musical talent who needed to practice a few numbers for my debut as Belle in Broadway's "Beauty and the Beast". I don't want to brag, but my performance was magical.

Probably the most invigorating part of the night was being pulled over for speeding. Fortunately, I was in West Texas and was pulled over by a county sheriff...who was apparently a Tech fan. I'm not sure why, but my voice went completely country as soon as I began to explain that I am not an out-of-stater...and that Texas is my home. Apparently, my talent extends beyond Broadway. Anyhow, when I shared with him that I was heading to the Tech game, he told me he would run my license and give me a warning so I could be on my way. I LOVE TEXAS!

I then made one quick pit stop at the Toot 'n Totum in Amarillo for gas and a Laffy Taffy before arriving into Lubbock just after midnight. It was quite a night...and quite a weekend!

Here are a few pics...

Tessa, Taleigh, me, and Morgan (one of my former students who was checking out the campus)



The SISTERS in front of the Tech seal. GUNS UP!!



Two good reasons NOT to go to OSU. Yes, her eyebrows are orange....because we might not have thought it was natural otherwise!



GAME TIME!!!



10-0!!!



And because it has been so long since my last post, here are a few of the "goings on" of Tiffany over the past couple of weeks...

One of our sweet friends from small group hosted a breakfast at her house before church. The view from the house was incredible...you could see the entire city. This is my friend Kari and me (and Kari's cousin's daughter).



Our Fall Festival was the night before the UT-Tech game. Someone (with really bad taste) chose burnt orange shirts for the volunteers. You REALLY can fix ANYTHING with duct tape, can't you?



Kari, Christy, Becky, and I all have birthdays in September and October, so we decided to celebrate with brunch at the Broadmoor. This was the morning after Tech beat UT, so....YES, I wore my Tech shirt to the Broadmoor!



In front of the lake at the Broadmoor


My BFF Sarah Palin came to see me the night before the election.


Unfortunately, the spotlight behind the stage ruined my pictures, but if you look really carefully...you can see Todd and Sarah...LOVE THEM!

Not EVERYTHING is Bigger in Texas!

This was the view from my front porch Wednesday morning...the first snow of the season!


And, lest you think it is always a winter wonderland here in Colorado Springs....

I took a different route home from school today and stumbled upon a rather unpleasant scene. Is THIS what happens to pumpkins in high altitude? Does anyone else feel the need to put some pants on these babies, or is that just me?


I'm not sure what is more disturbing...the morbidly obese pumpkins or the shrub garden disguised as landscaping.

Random

I finally got around to downloading the pictures from my camera.

First, my awesome small group surprised me with flowers, a tiara (much like the ones I wore in my pageant days), and some yummy goodies for my birthday.




Brian gave me a spaghetti squash from his garden. Sadly, I was as excited about the squash as I was about the flowers. I'm old. Next year...party at Luby's!


I went to see Beth in Basalt last weekend. The fall colors were so BEAUTIFUL! These pictures were taken a few houses down from where Beth lives. I started my morning jogs here. The weather was perfect...crisp and cool! The second half of the trail took me along one of the best fly fishing rivers in the U.S. I forgot to go back and take pictures though. Just check out any magazine with pictures of a trail along a river shaded by a canopy of trees in fall colors, and that's pretty much what it looked like.






Snowmass...between Basalt and Aspen. I plan to be here this winter!


We had breakfast in Aspen and then took a stroll around town. I like to walk into the shops in Aspen and pretend to be very rich. We first visited Pitkin Country Dry Goods...a favorite of mine...and of my good friend, Jennifer Aniston. The first sweater I picked up was $700. Since one of the employees was watching me, I simply nodded at the price as if to let her know that I thought it was a good deal....and then proceeded to size it up by stretching the sweater against my chest and looking down over the top of the hanger at my new look . It wasn't quite what I was going for, so I put it back and continued my pretend shopping spree. After a few minutes, I left Pitkin County Dry Goods...and communicated to the employees through my convincing facial expressions that I would be spending my large fortune elsewhere.


We made a quick stop at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory where I enjoyed a chocolate covered pretzel. Adelaide chose an M&M covered marshmallow kabob. I don't think she ever ate the marshmallows. They simply served as a glue that held the M&M's to the stick. Beth would want me to tell you that Adelaide (almost 3) insisted on wearing Grace's (9) vest.


This past Friday night, a few of us celebrated the birthday of our friend Abraham at the Blue Star. I'm not sure why, but the conversation eventually centered around Angelina Jolie.

Quotes

**Update**
Two gems from today:

Apparently, one of the most famous stock exchanges in America is the "Wal-Mart Stock Exchange". You can really buy ANYTHING there, can't you?

AND...
I also learned today that "most Americans claim to have roots from Jermaine." (Germany). As in Jackson?? So, does that make Michael my uncle?



I have just a few minutes before I need to start packing. I'm heading to Aspen, my home away from home, this weekend. I know, I lead a rough life! Anyhow, I wanted to take a minute to share a couple of my favorite student quotes from the week. Enjoy...

"Immigrants should have the same rights as us. They are human beans too."
I am considering hooking this girl up with the creators of Veggie Tales. I really think she might be onto something.

"I will stop enter roping class so much."
This is the year-long goal of one of our 6th graders. Perhaps we should add SPELLING to the plan as well!

Chocolate Cake

Every few weeks, I have the unique privilege of teaching writing skills to a handful of students during Saturday School. We try to make it as painless as possible because, let's face it...NO ONE (myself included) enjoys spending a Saturday morning reviewing the finer points of grammar, writing, and revision. During my most recent Saturday School session, I gave students the task of writing about their three favorite desserts. We then reviewed the entire writing process. When the kids were finished, we put a few of their essays on the SmartBoard (without their names, of course) and practiced editing together. For those of you who are unfamiliar with a SmartBoard, it is essentially an overpriced interactive white board that we educators use in an attempt to appear as if we are on the cutting edge of technology.

Anyhow, I came across the following sentences nestled strategically in the middle of a paragraph we were editing. I considered sharing the entire essay with you but fought the urge for fear that you might lose any remaining confidence in our education system.

Saturday Student Extraordinaire (an 8th grader) writes:
"And don't even get me started on chocolate cake. I love me some chocolate cake."

I'm assuming "And" is the transition word here.

Seeing as how these were two of her more successful attempts at appropriate sentence structure, I focused on the positive and praised her for her passion. After all, I love me some chocolate cake too!

Blessed

Today, I turned 35. If you would have asked me twenty years ago where I thought I would be at 35, this is not the answer I would have given you. Don't get me wrong...I have come to appreciate this season of my life, and I love all that Colorado has to offer. But, I would be lying if I told you that the single life is where I want to be right now.

For my birthday, the Lord gave me a sermon that was a sweet reminder of how He has worked in my life over the past several years....and how He continues to work. Pastor Brady (LOVE HIM!) talked today about faith and perseverance in prayer. He reminded us that persistent prayer over a period of time provides us the opportunity not so much to get the things for which we ask but instead to KNOW the One from whom we ask. In other words, our prayer life is merely a journey that allows us to press in and know the character of God so that we will ultimately become more like Him.

With that said, I would like to take a few moments to focus on some of the lessons God has taught me through my singleness. The beauty of this season of life is that the Lord has provided me with TIME to focus on Him. Obviously, I cannot begin to summarize my entire journey in one blog entry, but I can't let this day pass without voicing my enormous gratitude for God's unfailing love and faithful pursuit of my heart. If He never answers another prayer, He has already done enough.

Lessons I'm learning while I wait...
1. God passionately pursues me.
2. He loves me unconditionally and with an EVERLASTING love. (Jeremiah 31:3)
3. He is my rescuer. (Psalm 91:14)
4. He is my provider...He provides TODAY what I need for TODAY, and He'll provide TOMORROW what I need for TOMORROW.
5. God carries the "former things" so that I don't have to...He will make a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:18-19)
6. God is always in control.
7. The God of this universe wants to spend time with ME.
8. He is patient...even when I don't deserve it.
9. His glory is what is most important.
10. Contentment can only be found in Him.
11. I must depend on Him alone.
12. Delighting myself in God only leads me to desire Him more.
13. God is good ALL the time.
14. He is faithful.
15. My faith must rest on His identity, not on His activity. (Beth Moore)
16. The goal of life is not the absence of pain, it is the presence of God and the glory of God.
17. "Abandonment means to refuse yourself the luxury of asking any questions." Oswald Chambers.
18. God's mercies are new EVERY DAY!
19. "God is not concerned about my spiritual life. He is concerned about my life." Jay Strack
20. He will do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine. (Ephesians 3:20)
21. God can change stubbornness and a strong will into a determination to follow Him.
22. I am only a branch. I can do nothing apart from Him. (John 15:5)
23. As I search for a husband, I must make sure I am in a place where I want to be found.
24. I must trust HIS timing...not my own. I must wait for Him. (Psalm 27:14)
25. He is my hiding place.
26. My eyes must be fixed on Him alone (Hebrews 12:1-3)
27. He will complete the work He started. (Philippians 1:6)
28. How I live my life is a testimony of what I believe about God. (Experiencing God)
29. He will frequently bring me to a crisis of belief that requires faith and action. (Experiencing God)
30. He has chosen me as His witness so that I may KNOW and BELIEVE Him. (Isaiah 43:10)
31. He desires mercy more than sacrifice.
32. He is my confidence.
33. He is my Banner
34. COMPLETELY surrendering to Him brings COMPLETE freedom.
35. I am INCREDIBLY blessed!

Can I Get a Witness?

My mom and dad have been here for the past week. They rented a cabin in the mountains about ten minutes from Woodland Park where I used to work. Thursday evening, my mom and I headed into town to grab take-out for dinner. It was about 6pm when we arrived only to find that every restaurant in town was closed...every restaurant except for The Swiss Chalet. Apparently, there is a large Swiss population residing in this tiny mountain town, and they are the only ones who like to eat dinner....AT 6PM...ON THURSDAYS!

Since I can't recall a time in my life when I had a hankering for Swiss cuisine, my mom and I chose to go with a usually reliable Subway sandwich. I steered my Toyota into the Subway parking lot and was immediately mesmerized by a picture of the new Chicken Pizzola...chicken breast and pepperoni with cheese, marinara sauce, and all the fixing's. My attention was quickly diverted when I noticed that all of the other restaurant seekers (the non-Swiss) had also made their way to Subway.

Refusing to be defeated, my mom and I took our place in line. There were two women working the counter. If I had to guess, their names were Madge and Celeste...but I really have no idea. Madge was an older woman, and Celeste could have been anywhere between the ages of 18 and 37. It was hard to tell. Neither was in a hurry to complete a sandwich order, but at least they were pleasant.

We eventually made our way to the front of the line, and Madge took my order. After destroying my Italian Herbs and Cheese loaf, she made a feeble attempt to scoop marinara sauce out of the meatball pan. Madge eventually produced enough marinara for a rotini noodle or two, but she seemed satisfied with her efforts and passed my sandwich to Celeste who did a fine job of binding up the wounded display with an assortment of vegetables.

I won't go into all the details of the check-out process, but let's just say that Celeste's brilliance was short-lived.

We then decided to quickly drive through Burger King to pick up chicken nuggets for TJ. I placed my order and drove to the window where I proceeded to pay. Unfortunately, Crazy Cashier Lady wasn't so great on the exchange, and one of my dollar bills flew through the air and landed under my back tire. She immediately began to instruct me as to how I could manipulate my body and squeeze out of my door which was wedged against the building to reach the dollar bill....the dollar that she had dropped. My mom, seeing the confusion and bewilderment on my face, began to laugh hysterically in the passenger seat. This was of no help to me.

To add insult to injury (I'm still sore from the rescue attempt), it took FOREVER to cook the nuggets...the FOUR nuggets. Every once in awhile, an employee would come to the window, look at us as if to wonder whether we recognized them from their profiles on America's Most Wanted, and then apologize for the delay. I assured one young man that he could make up for the wait by providing us with a free chocolate shake. He obliged. Two minutes later, he emerged with a chocolate shake that had the consistency of a glass of water. This wasn't a huge problem. The shake, after all, was free. But, the fact that my "frozen" treat was sloshing over the side didn't seem to be enough to convince Wonder Boy that something was terribly wrong. This sent my mom into the silent laugh.

Nearly an hour after we left the cabin, my mom and I headed back home...armed with two cold subs, four piping hot nuggets, and a large chocolate milk.

The entire evening was a series of bizarre encounters and inexplicable circumstances. But, I FINALLY had a witness....someone to testify to the unsettling nuances that seem to prevail in the state of Colorado...someone to assure me that the oddities I've tried so desperately to communicate really do exist....that the glazed stare of confusion I experience so often is, in fact, justified. I must say, I am quite relieved.

Texas Proud

Okay, the storm (at least the wind and the rain) is over...and I AM TEXAS PROUD!! Of course, Geraldo did us all a favor by providing enough bloopers to keep the media busy. Thank you, Geraldo...and Weather Channel guy...GOOD STUFF!

Seriously, I am so impressed with my fellow Texans. You picked yourselves up by the bootstraps and gave the rest of the nation a good lesson on cooperation and hard work! High fives, everyone! JOB WELL DONE! You are constantly in my thoughts and prayers, and I look forward to seeing how the Lord will continue to use this for His glory. I wish I could be there with you.

Ike

Like many others, I am glued to my television as Fox News gives round the clock coverage of Hurricane Ike's trek through southeast Texas. I hate to admit it, but I'm a little bit jealous that I am not in Houston to enjoy the festivities. Oh, we Houstonians like to put on our concerned faces and pretend to wish away a storm. But, admit it...there is a tiny longing inside every one of us that loves the hype and secretly attempts to lure a good hurricane our direction. That is, until it actually hits and leaves us to sit in the damp, steamy darkness with nothing to do but stare at each other and consume ungodly amounts of Little Debbie snack cakes and Fritos with bean dip.

Personally, I am waiting for the "day after" media coverage. Tomorrow is when southeast Texans will do us proud. Tomorrow is when we'll point the spotlight on our most prized citizens...the lady in a muumuu who clings to her chihuahua while floating down a neighborhood street on the door of a port-o-potty, the man with three teeth sitting on the front porch next to his shotgun and donning a Clutch City t-shirt, Budweiser cap, and Wranglers cut off at the knees. We will likely witness a live interview with an unfortunate victim who sports the thickest accent and an impressive fourth grade education. He or she will reminisce about the storms of old and relive the glory days of Hurricanes Carla and Alicia. Ah, yes...tomorrow will be the day that we shine. Tomorrow, the world will know why we are Texas proud.

The Sampler

It might be because I teach middle school. I'm really not sure of the reason, but I am a hopeless germaphobe. I wash my hands before every meal. I don't touch doorknobs unless absolutely necessary, and I try to steer clear of 6th grade boys after PE...okay, even before PE.

I tell you this in order to shed light on the gravity of my misfortune today. I was at Whole Foods, one of my favorite places on earth. I circled the store, taking in samples of cereal, chips, fruit, and salmon burgers before landing at the chicken kabob table. There, I found an assortment of chicken kabobs basted and seasoned in any number of herbs and spices. If I remember correctly, there were four choices. I politely reached for a toothpick and began to sample each of the delectable varieties. I closed my eyes and looked toward heaven as I savored each and every delicious bite. I then engaged in a conversation with the young lady manning the booth and even pretended I was interested in purchasing (yea, right) one of the selections. I smiled and nodded and discretely scanned the perimeter of the table in search of a place to discard my toothpick while she explained each of the options. Only then did I notice the fresh pile of toothpicks stacked neatly in a basket...but not the basket from which I had chosen my toothpick. No, my basket was a bit messier. That's right, apparently I chose my toothpick from the TRASH PILE!

Reliving the horror with you just made me to throw up in my mouth a little bit.

This happened nearly three hours ago, and I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. I have had shortness of breath, I'm quite sure I have a rash or some other contagious disease, and I might even be pregnant. I could have any manner of medical conditions because everyone knows what kind of germs can be spread through a twice used toothpick sampler. I don't think even Whole Foods has a pill for this.

The Facts of Life

Recently, one of my eighth graders (we'll call him Joe) approached my desk after school to inquire about the work habits of a 6th grader. The conversation went something like this....

Joe: Miss Lechinger, how is Jordan doing in your class?
Me: Why do you ask, Joe?
Joe: Because he's my tutee.
Me: I'm sorry, your what?
Joe: He's my tutee...you know, I tutor him.
Me: OHHH, I see....your tutee.

Fortunately, Joe left rather quickly after our conversation. I needed to laugh, and I also needed to google the word "tutee". As it turns out, tutee IS a real word. Until that moment, I was pretty sure "Tutee" referred to an adolescent African American girl who ruled the roost on roller skates while playing referee to Blair Warner and Jo Polniaczek. Clearly I was wrong.

Dryer Drama

It is Day 10 of the new school year, and I have already forced three 6th graders to tears. THREE...IN TWO WEEKS! This has to be some sort of record. Unfortunately, I cannot criticize their emotional instability because I too found myself in the middle of a ridiculous sobbing fit last Sunday.

My dryer had gone out about a week prior, and I was attempting to connect the power cord to the replacement dryer. Let me get one thing straight...I rent because my dad lives a thousand miles away and can't repair my appliances. It's really that simple. I still have no idea why this mechanical nightmare was my responsibility, but there I was...wedged between the dryer and the wall in my laundry closet...armed with a screw driver and a cell phone...ready to take on the impossible.

Tragically, it took a grand total of about fourteen seconds for my frustration to usher in the waterworks and only another minute or two before I was fully engulfed in the ugly cry. I cried for a variety of reasons. I cried because I needed to do laundry and had no dryer...because I'm single and have no husband to fix my dryer...because I teach 6th graders, and they annoy me... because the plans keep changing...because I hate the word "wait"...because I'm a Texan living in a foreign land...because the computers still aren't working...because the backpacks haven't been shipped...because I have close to 300 essays to grade...because I'm tired and overwhelmed... And, I cried because I was wedged between the wall and my dryer and wasn't sure I would be able to get out.

Toward the end of my breakdown, I talked out loud to a pretend audience and assured them that I was justified in my insanity. They listened intently and eventually agreed. Satisfied, I dried it up, pulled myself up by my Crocs, wormed my way out of my hole of despair, picked up the pieces to my phone, and called it a day. I mean, really, there are people who get paid big bucks for this kind of drama. I needed a nap.

Back to School

The kids are back in school. It's hard to believe the summer is officially over, but I am glad to have the first week behind me. Our program expanded this year to include 6th grade. This means that I now have students who want to hug me before and after class....EVERY DAY! Apparently, this is part of the learning process when you are eleven. This also means that my classroom now looks more like a giant game of Whack-a-Mole than an educational institution. Seriously, I need chairs with seat belts. I haven't made anyone cry yet, but it is sure to happen. I was created to teach 8th grade. 7th is a stretch, but 6th is simply unnatural. Someone could get hurt, and it will probably be me.

Despite its challenges, I think any teacher would tell you that we have one of the most rewarding jobs in the world. I spent a year in "full-time ministry" only to realize that my greatest ministry is in the classroom. I'll be honest, this year is going to be one of the most difficult of my career. I am writing the curriculum for three grade levels for a class that is not taught anywhere else in the country. I have no textbooks, limited resources, and no teaching partner. I am already incredibly overwhelmed. But, I have the opportunity to make a difference in the life of a child. I get to love kids who feel unlovable. I get to inspire kids who are treated as if they are worthless by those who should praise them the most. I get to listen, to encourage, to teach, to make a kid smile who doesn't have much to smile about. Most importantly, I get to be the hands and feet of Christ each and everyday. From what I can tell, there is no greater opportunity and no greater responsibility.

Agony of De-FEET

The Credo Corn Cutter - Seriously, who calls it that?


The wounds (both physical and emotional) have healed from my recent pedicure disaster, so I courageously ventured into yet another nail salon this afternoon. I have decided that trying to find a good pedicure in Colorado is much like trying to find a good hamburger in China....I'm not sure either exist. However, I am thrilled to report that I managed to find the Big Mac of pedicures today. What I mean is, I found something decent enough to hold me over until I take a trip to Texas. Although relative success was achieved, today's visit is definitely worth discussing.

Let's start from the beginning...

I entered the salon and was greeted by the friendliest Coloradan EVER. He was a pleasant Asian gentleman who quickly instructed me to pick out my color. I, for one, only wear colors with exciting names...like "Do You Lilac It?", "Have You Seen My Limo?", or "Elephantastic". So, you can imagine my horror when I began to search through the assortment of OPI bottles only to find the names had been removed. I don't even know how to pick a color based solely on its looks. I NEED A NAME. After countless hours of searching, I begrudgingly scooped up a color and threw myself into the massage chair.

The friendliest Coloradan EVER didn't seem to be affected and immediately began my pedicure. It was at this time that I noticed the mole on his chin...the mole with four of the LONGEST mole hairs I have EVER seen. No, they were THE longest mole hairs I have ever seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say they ranged in length from two to say, four and a half inches. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. Fortunately, the friendliest Coloradan EVER (TFCE) was focused on my toes and didn't seem to notice me. There was also another hair that seemed to have no origin. I tried for nearly an hour to follow it, but I finally gave up the search. It is still a mystery to me.

Randomly throughout my pedicure, TFCE would greet the patrons who came into the salon. At one point, a "regular" must have entered because he asked her, "How are your mom and shitsa?"

I beg your pardon? Is this salon PG-13?

It was during the exchange of pleasantries that another patron, Park Ranger Susan, took a seat in the chair next to me. The unfortunate nail tech who sat at her feet had apparently drawn the short straw and was a captive audience as she bored us all with her airplane woes from a 5:30am flight....something about a bag and "he didn't want to mess with me at 5:30 in the morning." Misfortune struck when her neighbor entered the salon and Park Ranger Susan began to recount the same boring tale. Her neighbor wasn't impressed either but did make an attempt to look interested...and even went on to share her own insightful monologue about how it was so humid during her trip to South Carolina that she "wanted to tear her skin off."

All the while, TFCE carried on with my pedicure, and I must say...he took no prisoners. He attacked my heels with the Credo-Corn Cutter (these are illegal in Texas but necessary in Colorado where people hike in Chaco's and only get pedicures on their wedding day) like he was peeling potatoes. I think I lost half a shoe size.

After I was properly "skinned", TFCE began my massage....at least that's what I think it was. He squirted lotion on my legs and then began to hit the bottoms of my feet. I almost hit back but then remembered the mole hairs. Who knows what those things are capable of? Quite frankly, I don't want to know. As luck would have it, the beating didn't last long, and TFCE and I are still friends.

After a semi-impressive paint job, I hobbled over to the drying booth to catch up on my People Magazine reading. The nuggets of information one can glean from a People Magazine are riveting....like the fact that Matthew McConaughey has a brother named Rooster who has a son named Miller Lyte. I wonder if he has a shitsa? I'll have to ask TFCE the next time I visit his salon.

Mid Columbine Trail

Rose, Kari, and me


The deer in the headlights look...strikingly similar to what I get from my students everyday


In front of Helen Hunt Falls


Kari and me


Rose and me...she did, in fact, come armed with a variety of breakfast snacks


Rose, Kari, and I went on a quick hike in Cheyenne Canyon this morning. Kari and I then went to the Farmer's Market in Old Colorado City. Can I just say that I LOVE summers in Colorado?? By the way, I bought a melon at the Farmer's Market that is a honeydew-cantelope mix. I really don't care for either honeydew or cantelope, but the mix is absolutely delightful. :)

Alpine Slide

The Finish Line


Darcy coming off the practice track


Darcy, Christy, and me before the big event


Christy is friend of mine from Tech. Nice shirt, Christy!


Bret, Julie, Rose, and Chris.


Rose and me



Paparazzi...they were everywhere!


Last weekend, a few friends and I ventured up to Winter Park for a day of fun and excitement on the Alpine Slide. My friend, Rose, went along...which is to say that we stopped along the way for coffee and pastries. I don't care if we were going to the moon, Rose would know a good pastry shop along the way. Big hug, Rose!

We finally rolled into Winter Park around noon, just in time for a picnic lunch before heading to the Slide. I would love to say the Alpine Slide is a carefree excursion for me, but I get serious when it comes to my sliding (never mind that this is the kind of activity that families with small children do on their summer vacations). I MIGHT have even pretended the people riding the lift above were critiquing my ride...as if they were thinking to themselves, "That girl is so smooth. Look at the way she takes the curves. She is fearless. Tens all the way around." Of course, Alpine Sliding (sure to be an Olympic event) would never be scored by judges...it's a timed event. BUT, there was a shaggy-headed four year old ahead of me who was threatening my quest for the gold. I had to change the pretend rules. I'm not saying for sure, but there might have even been some trash talking involved.

After capturing medals in all three events (the Alpine Slide, the Human Maze, and the Scenic Lift Ride), we called it a day and headed triumphantly back to the Springs. Good times were certainly had by all.