Duets with a darling dude

This was two weeks ago, but it's never too late to share really fun stuff, right? This little guy came to visit, and we wound up playing some duets. We might need a little more practice before we go pro, but so far audiences have loved us.

Most of the audience did consist of our moms, which might explain some of that. That and the fact that this guy is ridiculously cute.

Exhibit

You remember how I was going to be learning how to draw? Ha! Well, I have come to report that I have not been idle in my absence from this blog. As you can see, I'm getting to be quite a pro.

I call this one, "A Guest, Upon Swallowing the First Bite of My Cooking."

"A Squirrel, Probably Suffering from the Plague and Possibly Possessed"

I drew this little piggy just this week. So far he's stayed home.

Well, I know you're all impressed, This presentation has been free, but if you'd like to make a donation in honor of this exhibit, please donate to your favorite charity. Or to me -- I'll take it.

Art and Criticism

Laziness of course plays a big part, but I also think I might be better at playing the piano and writing if I didn't have such good taste. Becoming good at these things takes a lot of consistent effort and work, a lot of practice, and a lot of bad attempts. I have enough critical sense to be hyper aware of my poor performance and for it to jar on me, so I don't practice nearly as much as I should. Thus, I'm not very good.

I have a solution, though. I'll take up art! Since I don't "get" art, bad art doesn't faze me. This should mean that I'll be able to get in lots of practice without frustrating myself.

Stay tuned, guys. Pretty soon, I'm going to have perfected my stick-man technique.

Reluctance Is Futile

I floated up onto another floor the other day, and as I sat in the staff room waiting for reports, I noticed a sign up on the wall in fancy script that said, "Reluctance is futile!"

And I thought, "How true."

And then I realized I'd read the fancy script wrong and it actually said, "Resistance is futile," which is a more mainstream thought.

I like the way I originally read it, though. Sometimes I drag myself out of bed, wanting very much to not get up. I drag myself to work, wanting very much to stay at home; and I drag myself around all day. Then I come home and drag myself off the couch (if I've let myself sit down) and into the shower. I sort of enjoy myself a little for the next hour or two, but it's kind of poisoned by knowing I need to go to bed soon. Usually later than I should, I finally succeed in dragging myself off to bed, dreading the next morning.

This is very stupid.

Reluctance is futile. I have to do all that stuff, and dreading things is pointless (and very un-fun) and takes all the fun out of the rest of the day as well.

Today I managed to cut down a lot on my "reluctance," and it was a very good day.

Thank goodness for illegible fonts.

Blogging

I'm not a very good blogger. I'm kind of a run-of-the-mill, boring type person, so it's hard to come up with anything that would be interesting for anybody else to read. And then the forum just seems very odd to me. It's like speaking into a black abyss, addressing the whole world and nobody at the same time. But I guess I should just start talking into the void here; maybe it will interest someone -- or help me be more interesting? The great thing about a blog is that if it bores you, you don't have to read it!

Russell's Visit

We had a really nice visit from Russ and his family about a month ago. They spent two weeks, and we played lots of games, swam, watched fireworks, and did lots of hanging out and getting to know each other better. It was really nice.

The boys got to help Grandpa with watering and get to know him better.

It was really fun for me to see Mom with Andrew. A mom of an adult has a different relationship and a different way of treating her adult children, which is the way things ought to be. But watching Mom with Andrew, I got to see the mom I had when I was a little child, and it was really sweet. She's wonderful with him. She's a great mom and grandma.

The boys also had a good time exploring. There's so much to look at in Grandma's house!

We played with puppets for Family Home Evening activity. It was pretty fun.

Russ and I stayed up late several nights, talking about games and books and math, and that was nice, too. I just have good siblings and a great family. Thanks, all of you family! I appreciate ya!

Becky's Undergraduate Graduation -- Undergraduation?

So Becky graduated in April.

 Ready to go off and bear the torch, and all that.

I don't think Mom had told Dad how much a college education costs.

He started going around asking for donations.

He did get one.

I think he felt better after that, so we went and got something to eat. We stopped in the sculpture garden on the way there.

We also got a picture with President and Sister Samuelson.

It was all really fun. Thanks for graduating, Becks!

*Disclaimer: Because I have a compulsive need for complete accuracy (as far as possible), no matter how little anyone cares or how much it may have been obvious in the first place, I must add that Dad did know how much education costs, that I have no memory of why he was pretending to ask for donations, and that most of these pictures are out of order.

Adventures as a Substitute Teacher

I started taking classes again at our community college in January, this time taking prerequisites for a nursing degree. Only one of my classes that semester was not online, and I had to attend in person only two days a week, so I thought I might as well try to be a substitute teacher on the days I didn't have class.  (Income and all that; you might not guess it, but I'm actually a fan.) I applied, jumped through all the paperwork hoops, was hired, and started working in April. I got far more days than I anticipated. In fact, once my college finals were over I substituted every day, although not always for the full day, for the rest of the school year.

I wonder why they don't give you any training.

I did:
10 days at the high school
5 days at a middle school
9 days at elementary schools

High school was by far the easiest. I suppose that was partially because I figured they were old enough that they knew what was expected of them and could be responsible for the consequences of doing their work or not doing it. The lesson plans the teachers left also tended to be simpler to implement, and often I would set them to do their work and then would read, looking up now and then to warn them to knock the noise level down a notch. Or to tell them to put the electric drill away and stop lancing empty soda cans -- you know -- depending on the class, (I wish I were joking on that).

Middle school was alright.

But I wonder why it is that all middle schoolers seem to think it is incumbent upon them to make paper airplanes whenever there's a sub. I'm pretty sure they think it's their job.

A troubled-looking kid in one of the special ed class in middle school was busy playing a game on his phone one day, and I told him (because he had answered several of my questions pretty intelligently) that if he worked on his math maybe he could grow up and design games someday. He told me he already knew what he wanted to be.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I can't tell you," he said significantly. "But my dad took me to this special place once, and that's what I'm going to be. That's why I'm playing this, because," he said very quietly, "it's an assassin's academy."

Alrighty then. He said straight-up later when he polled the class on their career plans that he wanted to be an assassin when he grew up, and work for the government, I think. (I suppose that's better than being a freelance assassin, which is what I was thinking originally.) And, uh, it's good to have goals, I guess.

Elementary school is exhausting. I did three days in a row of Kindergarten, and by the last day I came home and lay on the floor for the rest of the day, too tired even to watch a movie for most of it.

Elementary kids are sort of entertaining, though. One of the kids in 3rd grade came up and asked me quite seriously, "Are you from another dimension?"

No, kid, but I'm pretty sure all you guys are.

One of my Kindergarteners would constantly be coming up to me saying, "Teacher, he's telling on me! He said he was going to tell on me!" (which the other kid never did; I think he might have figured out a system here.)

After that one of the "helpful" girls in the classroom would always join in (in exactly the same whiny voice), "He's telling, too! He's telling on him telling! He's telling on him telling!"

I guess they haven't covered irony yet in Kindergarten.

Helpful kids were often as difficult as the kids who just wanted to goof off. My Kindergarteners would often want to get out their whiteboards and draw after they finished their work, (or as soon as anyone else had finished their work and pulled out theirs), and a couple of them helped themselves to the foamy erasers at the front of the room to wipe their boards with. Then a kid or two asked me if they could get an eraser, too. I said yes. And then one of the "helpful" kids said, "We're not supposed to use those!"

I kind of shrugged and told her I thought it would be okay.

"No! We're not supposed to use those!"

And then she went around and tried to confiscate the erasers from all the kids who had them, in spite of me telling her to sit down. And then other kids tried to help her, while several of the kids held on tight to the erasers. "She said I could use it!" they wailed.

And it ended up, as it usually does, in a wrestling match on the floor. And tears. I think I had a kid cry at least once in every elementary class I taught. It seemed pretty constant.

Sadly, these disturbances did not make a difference in the average classroom noise level. I think elementary children have an inherent fear of rockets, and they like to keep the noise loud enough that if one blasted off from next door, they wouldn't hear it. Or something like that.

Being a substitute, especially in elementary school, usually made me feel incompetent. Classroom management is an art I have no skill in, and I would often goof on school procedures, too. Several times I would do something like go out to supervise the kids at recess and would tell the other sub to go use the bathroom if she needed to, only to be grumpily told off by another teacher that there needed to be two teachers out with the kids at all times. Whoops.

Of course, I don't blame her for being grumpy. Constant disciplining tends to make you that way; I realized that I had become less smiley and more abrupt after a few days in elementary school. What compels people to work there every day?

On a related note, I didn't think I could make my voice go very loud. Turns out, I can get as loud and grumpy a yell out of my throat as any elementary teacher I ever met. Who knew.

Like with most jobs, there was some good and some bad. I have several sweet memories, too, and I understand a lot better about the school systems, public education, and teachers. So I count it as a good experience.

And, let's face it, I got lots of good stories.

Gratitude

I decided to jump on the bandwagon and do a thankfulness post while it was still November. This is certainly not a comprehensive list, but these are a few of the things that make me glad to be alive.

1. My family. This one is mandatory for this sort of list, particularly when most of my readership is family, but it's very heartfelt also. I love my family -- my brothers and sisters, my nieces and nephews, my cousins and aunts and uncles, and my parents. They're wonderfully supportive, fun, and inspiring. I also very much love our family's in-law club. The club makes me laugh whenever I think of its exclusive membership and quirky traditions; and I'm so glad they're a part of our family now!

2. My religion. I'm so grateful for the Church, for scripture, for prayer, for prophets and temples, and for the knowledge that a just and loving God cares about me and my family. This brings me great peace. I can't imagine my life without it.

3. My friends. I had a difficult time forming friendships as a child (and sometimes as an adult), and I think this has made me particularly grateful for the friends I have. They're wonderful, and each one adds a richness to my life that would be lacking without him or her. (That's the problem with the "each one" construction; we get into this nonsensical him/her stuff. But I can't just put "him," either, because Travis would wiggle his eyebrows significantly, and I think it best to avoid that.)

4. My gifts. This may sound a bit conceited, but I'm happy to be who I am. I know I'm not the world's most beautiful, intelligent, talented, or angelic person, but that's okay. I appreciate what I do have. I decided a long time ago not to waste my life wishing I had someone else's figure, or hair, or life, or whatever. When I'm old and dumpy, with no teeth and little hair, I want to look back and remember that I appreciated my health and looks while I had them. And although I hope by then to have increased in wisdom and virtue, I still think it's good for me to remember that I do have some already. I'm lucky to have many people in my life who love me accept me for who I am and what I can become, and I do, too.

5. Beauty. Seeing beauty fills my heart with happiness. And so many things are beautiful, if we stop and think about it. A few things I think are beautiful are flowers, trees, and sunshine; truth, loyalty, and sacrifice; quilts, clothes, and paintings; books, movies, and music; puppies, birds, and babies; loved ones, friends, and strangers. It's true that there are many ugly things in this world, but it is also a world of beauty, and that's what I choose to remember.

6. Things that make me laugh. For example, if you turn on our kitchen sink just right, you can spray someone sitting at the dining room table ten feet away. Perhaps someday that ought to be fixed, but in the meantime, it always makes me laugh. (Not that I have actually intentionally gotten anyone with it, yet, but I always forget, and then I laugh when I turn it on and -- remember.)

Well, there's a lot more, but I think that's sufficient for now. Happy late Thanksgiving, everyone! And happy start of the holiday season! (So exciting! It's nice to be in the US for this time of year!)

The Hobbit

I think most of the people who read this blog are family. And most of them would probably find this interesting, so I'll post it here.

Okay. Now what?

One of my earliest memories is escaping from my bedroom at nap time (I think I had to get out of a crib, but I could be making that up), going into the next room, and defiantly announcing to Mom that I was "too old to take naps!"

Mom barely looked up as she said, "Okay."

That threw me off balance. I'd been expecting to have to fight about it. I thought I'd probably get put back into my room and I'd have to escape again. I assumed I'd spend the whole hour campaigning for a free nap time, and here I was suddenly given what I wanted with comparatively no effort at all.

I went out of the room and thought to myself, "Okay. Now what?"

Today I went to my last college class. I'm going to graduate in a week and a half, and I feel just like I did when I was suddenly given my hour of nap time to use how I wanted. People ask me if I'm excited, and I suppose I am, but somehow I feel more disconcerted, like the fight to get what I wanted was over before I expected, before I had time to dream what I was going to do when I was free.

No worries, though, everyone. I'm sure I'll figure out how to keep myself occupied. There's always something else to fight for.

We're Home

So, I suppose late is better than never to update about everything. We're all home from India now. Mom, Dad, and our sister Cindy came out to Vizag on Thanksgiving Day, and the next day Becky and I went with them to tour around India for a month. We got back to the States just before Christmas. Perhaps sometime I'll write a bit more about that month, but that probably won't happen for a while. We'll see.

The Cook

Becky was recently told by some Indians we know that her figure is amazing. They talked for a couple minutes about how very nice and slender and statuesque she is. (And you're very pretty, too, they told me.) I guess there's at least one person, though, who does not appreciate Becky's thin figure. This morning Becky went in for breakfast, and after she'd eaten her fill she attracted the attention of our little old cook. He came over and began telling her that she was far too thin and that she needed to eat a lot more. And then he grabbed two slices of bread, put them on her plate, and started spreading two huge spoonfuls of jam on each slice. Becky dutifully ate both of them, and then went home and slept for two hours because it made her feel so sick.

I really love this little cook. He's very old -- he used to be a cook for the British back before India became an independent nation -- and he is totally passionate about food. The first time he talked to me I couldn't make out his accent, and I thought he was scolding me because he was so intense and was saying things rather disjointedly, but after he left the room someone told me that he was listing off the foods he knew how to cook. He stepped back into the room from the kitchen at least four or five more times to add foods he'd forgotten to the list, exactly as if he'd thought of new points in an argument.

He's slight, and his features and frame are somewhat sunken with age. He usually wears all white, and he carries an umbrella when he walks to and from work. He passes Krishnayya's house on the way home, and Krishnayya told me that he often stops by to quit on his way home because of something or other. Fortunately Krishnayya is always able to pacify him.

I'm going to miss him.

Family Poems, Part 2

Sorry I had to run in the middle of the family. Nothing personal, Cindy. ;) Here are the rest.

Cindy Lou, the next one born,
Plays the piano, flute, and horn.
She's famous for her brains and wit;
She has a fan club -- all legit.
She bruises very easily --
A modern Princess and the Pea.
She loves good books and Bollywood.
If you don't read her blog, you should.

Our brother Russell's next in line.
He's a pro at cosine, sine.
As listener he's really great;
I'll talk and talk, he'll sit and wait.
He loves football, BYU,
Just like all our brothers do.
He and Allen look a pair,
(The difference is in parted hair.)

Russ and Jen are a happy pair.
Jen is helpful, good, and fair.
Soccer is Jen's favorite sport,
But she'll play games of any sort.
I really like to talk to Jen,
Though I stop by just now and then.
But now it's hard to stop and play;
I'm sad they moved so far away.

Andrew's just a few months old,
Of him we know what we've been told.
We're told he's smart and curious,
Which we'd expect -- his father's Russ.
He's getting big and nice and long,
We're glad to hear he's going strong.
We can't wait to meet this baby boy.
Perhaps he'll get an Indian toy.

Pop is good and wise and kind,
A better dad we could not find.
If we need help or want to play,
Dad's there for us on any day.
He's great at chess and telling stories.
You should see his morning glories.
I always love his weekly letter,
But seeing him is even better.

Mom takes care of our whole clan,
She helps us any way she can.
Mom can do most anything,
She can sew, and paint, and sing,
She cooks every meal from scratch.
If clothes are torn she'll make a patch.
A chat with her makes me feel good,
If I could be like her I would.

Family Poems, Part 1

Since we have a little more time than things to do right now, Becky and I decided to write a poem for each of our family members. As you can tell, these are posh and polished works of art and culture. Enjoy!

We think Emmy's pretty swell,
The oldest and the family belle.
But more than just a pretty face,
She has brains, and guts, and grace.
She plays the piano like a pro.
She can quilt, and cook, and sew.
Emily is an awesome sister
And right now I rather miss her.

Travis is our sister's man,
Of that arrangement I'm a fan.
A handy guy and lots of fun,
He'd win the heart of anyone.
He makes good food and funny jokes;
He restrains himself and rarely pokes.
He says he'll trash my wedding car,
We'll see, then -- if I get that far.

Em and Travis have a kid;
We're really, really glad they did.
Alyssa now is nearly two,
Neat and trim from hat to shoe.
She loves babies, dogs, and treats.
She'll run to any one she meets.
We miss her darling laugh and smile.
We hope we'll see her in a while.

Travis has a dog named Boo.
He scares Mom like You Know Who.
His favorite games are fetch and tug,
He'll play them on the lawn or rug.
He hates the mailman through and through,
As many dogs are wont to do.
Jaide calls him the licking dog.
His picture's up on Meg's fun blog.

A man of thought and action too,
Allen wears the Cougar Blue.
He knows his facts and history,
In balance game he wins, not me.
Allen loves the great blue sky,
And birds and planes and things that fly.
He's really great at strategy;
I wish I were as smart as he.

Hannah is our brother's wife;
Where she is there'll be no strife.
He caramels truly are divine;
If I eat one I'll soon eat nine.
I like her laugh and conversation,
Her style of work and relaxation.
You'll often find her in the pool,
So you can tell she's pretty cool.

Bob comes next. He's big and tall.
He likes to tease and play football.
He often leads our family things --
Discussing gifts and gatherings.
He'll sit up late and strategize
With Dad and all the other guys.
Computers are our brother's friend,
If yours is sick he'll help it mend.

Bob's wife, Meg, is pretty sweet;
I love it every time we meet.
She keeps us posted with blog notes
On family news and funny quotes.
She's really great at volleyball --
I guess because she is so tall.
A caring friend and awesome mother,
This doesn't rhyme, but we all love her.

Jaide was born to Meg and Bob.
At six she's now a young heartthrob.
She plays fun games like pirate chase,
And where she plays she wins first place.
She's full of fun and energy,
She certainly has more than me.
She loves her class and friends at school.
We love our little family jewel.

Their other kid is Kiree-girl.
Her hair is full of pretty curl.
She plays along with sister Jaide,
Be it cards or pirate raid.
She liked our song made with her name;
She loved the Kiree-catching game.
She's nearly three now -- strong and tall.
She'll soon be great for volleyball.

The other poems are mostly done, but I've got to go now.

Compliments

We get interesting compliments here in India. People complement on my face, my hair, my earrings, my clothes, my figure, my bangles, and more. I've been told a couple times I look like a Telugu actress or like Aishwarya Rai or Sonali Bendre. I don't see that at all, but I guess I probably look more like them than Becky looks like ice cream: "So cool and sweet! Just like ice cream!" Becky also often gets told she looks simple, which she takes as a complement.

Birthday

Becky's birthday was good, I think. We had a small party (which mostly involved eating desserts), watched a Telugu movie (which everyone but us two abandoned before the intermission), and hung out together. Probably the biggest surprise was this:


Becky had been planning to steal a Mahesh poster before we went home, so she was very happy that Megan and Kelly did it for her. I don't think she was quite sure what to make of making it a sort of shrine to him, though.



His heart has "Rebecca" written on it.


They also arranged this cute little rosette for her, using a newspaper picture of her and a rosette we were given a few weeks ago and putting a sparkly crown on the picture.


Becky also had Karuna and Rama put some henna on her hands in honor of the day.

Phone

Doesn't Becky look cute when she's on the phone with Mom?

A Visit

Tuesday morning after class I went out to put some more minutes on our phone and to have my shoe stitched. I grabbed the shoe and kept a note card with the phone number in my purse, (I still don't have it memorized). I went to the shop down the street and took care of the phone and then went to the cobbler. The cobbler doesn't have a shop; he spreads out his tools and sits on the ground in the shade. He'd already stitched my shoes twice, so I knew to give him my shoe and wait for him to fix it.

As he was stitching my shoe another woman came and stood by the cobbler. She seemed very nice. She was probably around 30, pretty, well groomed, and well dressed. She wanted to take my picture, (which is pretty standard), and she showed me some of them she took. She wanted to talk to me, too, but I speak no Telugu worth mentioning, and she apparently spoke no English worth mentioning.

After the cobbler had finished with my shoe I started walking home, but as I turned onto the street she called out to me and pointed straight, as if I were going the wrong way. After some confusion and a lot of us repeating ourselves without either of us learning any more Telugu or English than we already knew, I realized that she wanted me to go somewhere with her. I figured she must live in our colony and want to take me to her home to give me a glass of water or something, and since she seemed very earnest about me coming and since I didn't have anything particular I was doing, I decided to humor her. She kept trying to communicate with me as we walked through the colony and then out across the road and down the street, seeming to be continually shocked and dismayed at my ignorance of Telugu. I did manage to understand that she wanted to know my telephone number, so I took the note card out of my purse to show her for her to copy or something. She immediately took it and put it in her saree, which I guess means I'll have to ask Jain our number again. We turned down a narrow lane into another colony.

This was her colony, and she took me to show me how close the beach is and also to show me to some of her friends there. They pointed out all the small children to me and seemed to expect me to pick them up or pinch their cheeks or something, but I mostly just waved. I didn't want to scare them to death, and I'm also never quite sure that that's what they were trying to get me to do. We ran into one guy who spoke pretty good English, and he translated one or two questions people wanted to ask me. After a few minutes, she motioned for me to follow her back.

A different guy fell into step with us as she took me back and told me that my friend, whose name I think is Ishri, was telling me that I should come and walk on the beach in the evenings. I think this guy also wanted my number, but Ishri was making motions to me to tell me that I was not to give it to him. I couldn't have, anyway, because it was in her saree. She dropped me home, and I went inside. The whole thing probably took less than twenty minutes.

India leaves me a little shell-shocked sometimes.

A Day at the Office

Yesterday my translator Lakshmi took me out to get some interviews at a place I think was an office. Several kind of crazy things happened during this trip, but I'll just tell you about the ladies I met. I interviewed two of them, but they kept spicing up our interview by asking me their own questions. I didn't mind, and it was kind of interesting to hear what questions they asked. What does my father do? How many siblings do I have? Are they married? Did they have love marriages? None of them were arranged? What do my brothers do? Does the whole family work? What kind of relationships do I have with my family members? Am I married? Would I marry a Telugu boy? Were my earrings platinum or steel? Did I buy my outfit here in Vizag? Do I cook at home? What sorts of things do I cook? Could I show them how to make one of the sweets I make? Am I Christian or Hindu? Do I like henna?

Actually, I bought henna about a month ago but hadn't worn it yet. I had put it in my purse that morning in case I finished with my interview early and Karuna was at the program house when I got back so she could put it on for me. I pulled it out to show them, and one of them, Madhuri, decorated my hands. She said she would do it for my wedding, too.


Lakshmi was in a different room for most of that time talking to a friend, so the ladies discussed me in Telugu with each other and all the people who wandered through. They kept saying the English word "homely," which I assume they were saying I was. (That's a good thing in Indian English; it means innocent and home-like, not ugly.) I felt kind of like I was a little stray puppy that got adopted. Lakshmi told me as we were leaving that they were saying that they liked me so much.

They also wanted to know if I ever wore a saree, and Lakshmi told them I did and promised to bring me back on Saturday wearing one. They were very happy about that. They wanted to see me "as an Indian."