Nothing is riveting! :)

I have a hankerin' for a project that just grabs me and won't let go. I can't seem to come up with one.

I think I need to just revisit some of the things in the mill and discipline myself to get them finished. I have this bad habit of starting and then letting things fizzle. I really should make some submission goals on some of the stuff that's complete outside of tweaking. Editing can be a chore!

Spring is well and truly here. Not to say that winter won't poke a finger in every now and then in a last desperate plea to hold on. But things are early this year I think. The Bradford pears rival the clouds against the blue of the sky. The white didn't have sole sway for very long though. There are leaves on things! We didn't have a very long "moldy branches" season where the buds were popped just enough to make the naked trees look like a science experiment or a specimen from the back of my refrigerator. Sadly though, it will also mean that the redbuds--which are coming into full bloom as well, will be competing with leaves as well. The trees seem to lose a little something when they aren't covered just in their pink buds.

Yellow is everywhere--daffodils, jonquils, forsythia. I've seen some hyacinths (can't spell) and crocus of course. I'm not catching much of a gardening bug though. I want some flowers but I don't want them on the porch this year. I want a small Adirondack chair to sit in to enjoy morning coffee and the daily text. Or to sit in during the evenings and regroup.

I finally want to move again. Sort of. I have this idea that I should walk when I drop Abe off at work and before I pick him up. But then I think I need shoes to keep the knee from screaming at me. Is it an excuse or wisdom?

What an irritation today was. Every time I settled into a routine, here came something unavoidable to knock me off balance. March's goals are receding and I need to get started on next month's website already. The taxes are a must as is Abe's portfolio material. Sigh--if I could get out from underneath those two things I could breathe. Those and getting the writing room together before my dh loses it because of the mess. Justifiably so, I might add.

I need to get back to the routine that Abe's job introduced in the beginning. I am up early and the kitchen and LR seem to stay clean. There is time to do what I need to. I just have to maintain focus and reminders.

Give me a project!!! I would do so well with assignments from editors. I know I would. It's how I work best--tell me what you want and I can deliver.

Not long till the OWFI conference. I'm all signed up with banquet tickets ordered. Can't wait to have them on hand. Dad mentioned it at the wedding--he and Mom are looking forward to the evening. I have a ticket for Jill too. We'll see.

This is such drivel. But they're words. Who knows what can eventually come of them.....

Trying to get back into the swing of things here, I started with the word for today which was acclamation and it somehow falls into a week's worth of words about elections. The word election is a death sentence to my interest and enthusiasm. You can tell I haven't even been keeping up with my word a day, much less the writing.

Well I got sidetracked at the end of the AWAD e-mail by a quote from Victor Hugo:

He who opens a school door, closes a prison. -Victor Hugo, poet, novelist, and dramatist (1802-1885)

I truly understand the value of education. I understand that perhaps without the reforms in child labor and compulsory school attendance, that our society could have languished in an era where some of the learned took unfair advantage of the ignorant. Still, the day that mankind started to believe the myth that true education could only take place in schools and at the feet of teachers was a dark one. That happened long before compulsory education came on the scene.

There are too many children who, when the school door is opened to them, enter a prison. They enter a prison where the powers that be determine what learning is, how it is measured, when it should take place, what constitutes success or failure. On top of that, learning must be administered in such a way as to foster an atmosphere of competition like what is out there in the "real world," part and parcel of the "American dream."

I was an excellent student. I am hardwired to be a book learner. And I was taught from an early age how to please people. Actually I was eager to do so. There's nothing wrong with making people happy until it comes at your own expense. Tangent! Tangent! Back to my box.

There are other ways to learn. In fact there are a lot of children who need to learn in other ways. They are the movers and the dreamers, the kids who learn by touching and doing and asking questions. The ones who ask why, and demand an answer. The kind that get told to sit down and be quiet. Who are told to be still. Edison was one. Either of my sons could have been another. What about the kids who are talented with their hands but not with a pencil and paper? What about those who can see in detailed 3-D, but who bog down when they're asked to memorize things? There are kids out there who if they were left free to explore, instead of being caged to a desk in an institution, would learn to do wonderful things with their hands and their minds. Instead they are labeled as failures. Or they are diagnosed with "learning disabilities" and even force-fed medication to remain among their "normal" peers.

In my perfect school, there would be no grade levels. There would be mastery levels. When a child reached a mastery level in a subject, s/he would move on to the next level. Each subject would have it's own course and the children would move through them at their own pace--"first grade" math could be taught right alongside "fifth grade" reading in that the child would not be tied to grade level work at any time.

It wouldn't matter if s/he spent two weeks or two years at a level; there would be no labels attached to learning quickly or learning slowly. Because I guarantee you--every child in there would be slow at something and quick to pick up another. The learning would be individualized and not competitive. No grading curves, no failure.

"Oh, that's not how the real world is! There is failure. There are people who fail." Okay, if I give you that, then can you give me that if the failures of the world truly had to opportunity to learn to maximize their potential--without being told that they were stupid or incapable--perhaps they would learn to do something other than fail?

Or here's another one. "In the business world, you only get one chance. You have to be able to do it right or you lose your job." Sorry. I'm not convinced. I worked in the business world. My job didn't teeter on the brink every time I misspelled a word or miscalculated a spread sheet. There was time to do it over; there was time to correct mistakes. In fact, my boss made mistakes. Big ones. And you know what--he was good at what he did. People could deal with his humanity because he was good at what he loved to do.

So if that boy who hates reading when he's seven was allowed to go outside and study the earthworms he loves so much--what might he be able to do in his lifetime with what he loves? You think earthworms aren't important? Think again. Think that you can learn all there is to know about earthworms in just a matter of months and what more is there to do? Think again. You think this child would never learn to read or write or do math if he were allowed to play with earthworms? Hogwash. Sooner or later he'd need new information. Or he would need to know how big to build the worm beds or how much he needs to fill them. He'll learn biology, ecology, chemistry--as and when he needs to and then he'll use it and it will become his. Not until he takes a test, but forever. Passing tests is not real-world!!!

There is so much more to learning than books and dry-erase boards, and mandated testing. There are children out there who think they are failures when they are anything but. It is not fair that the door that closes the prison for some closes others in the prison.

And so in my perfect school children would leave ready to pursue their dreams. It wouldn't matter how long it took them to get the tools they needed to do it. They wouldn't be forced to take the same history course three different times as they went through their school careers. They wouldn't be forced to fail higher math courses that they didn't need to use.

Of course for a perfect school to work, you'd have to have a perfect world to send these perfect students into, and we all know that's not going to happen. At least not at the hands of mankind. You can't get perfection from imperfection.

But we really should stop putting children in prison and calling it school. Don't you think so Victor?

I feel like I'm moving around in a room stuffed with cotton balls. I so want to flop down in them and sleep. My creativity is dizzy. Too many thoughts just knock around in my head. I am getting things done around the house even though I can't sit and focus.

Funny how the world revolves and everything that was true yesterday has changed today, and then sooner or later, everything will revolve back around again. I think it's a rhythm of mine. I don't know if it happens or I cause it. I do know that I get "over-peopled"--too much stimulation, too much nervousness, not enough solitude and time to think. Then there goes things--all that was good and right is shattered and now I am left alone where I can pick up pieces and make myself whole again.

I just wish I could do it without the negativity that seems to be part and parcel of the only way I can get everyone to just back off for a night and let me breathe. Little one will be away at a friend's tomorrow and the older one will be at work for several hours. Dad should be working. I may have the house to myself. What a delicious thought!

I keep meaning to tell whoever is out there reading that if you want to comment, I have no idea how to set that up. I also have had no success in setting up my archives either. I am really web-illiterate in so many basic ways. At any rate, if you ever want to get in touch or talk about anything here, feel free to e-mail me: Carolyn_Dekat@msn.com

I'm signing off tonight. I'm not even going to preview this...Just send it out there and let it fly so it can bring me back some health and peace.

I'm back. In town. Among the living. Take your pick.

I could not have possibly self-designed a worse week. Nor such a happy ending to it.

On Tuesday I spent the evening with my sisters. As most of my writing buddies know, I have two younger sisters, and the middle one of us got married on Saturday. (So now you know the happy ending. )

My dear sister's new hubby (to-be then, but not anymore!) took everything out of his house--all his belongings, the old carpet, every appliance, light fixture and doorknob and together, with the help of family, re-did cabinets, paint, tile, carpet, got new appliances, light fixtures, ceiling fans, and yes--even door knobs.

The remodeling phase however will extend well past the wedding, and Tuesday night I went up to help prepare for the carpet and the plantation shutters to be installed the following day. It was just the three of us girls and I can't remember the last time we've done anything together like that, just the three of us sisters. And even though it was cleaning we had a riot. It was such a blessing to be there with them and to share that time. (I just can't help thinking how much easier my housecleaning would go if they were here to entertain me while I did it!)

Anyone who has done any remodeling work will be familiar with the fine white chalky powder that comes from just about every job it seems. By the time we left the air was full of it, and I was coughing--all of us were. I had had problems with allergies all week long--the tree pollen was outrageous (love those buds though!!). I coughed my way home, got in about 11:45 and tried to go to sleep. However, I could not get warm. No matter how many blankets, sweaters, slippers I tried, I kept shivering.

Finally in my dazed and tired state, I realized this was a bad sign. About that time I began to hurt. I didn't know there were so many places in a body that person could hurt. Eventually my head decided to outdo them all. The cough/cold medicine did pretty good on the cough, but nothing--and I do mean absolutely nothing because I tried them ALL over the next 24 hours--would touch the aches. I have to take that back. Hot showers did wonders for the muscles. Not so much good for the head. I also recalled somewhere in there that on Saturday night into Sunday my oldest son had complained of shivers and a headache, and that my dh had come home from working on Monday complaining about working through a day-long bout of nausea and a headache. Okay--a virus. I probably had their virus. But not to worry. This was Tuesday. Well, Wednesday now. And I had till Saturday. That gave me Thursday to be over it and Friday to be at rehearsal and do nothing else but rest and Saturday I'd feel absolutely wonderful.

Ha.

Hubby was kind enough to take our oldest son to work in the morning. My youngest son stayed home and worried about me because we couldn't get a single thermometer in the house to work (our last old-fashioned, always worked, never needed a battery thermometer fell out of the cabinet and into the sink, and well, I miss it!). At 1:45 I managed to get myself together to let the writing group off the hook--I wasn't company worth keeping, even cybercompany--and settle back in to try to........

Pick my son up from work. Dad was on a job site not planning on being back. (Everyone thought I'd be well by now. Most of all me.)

His job is not far from here. But he was supposed to go out to the job site with dad. (Forgot that too) And he was--you guessed it--hungry. My little 10 minute jaunt across town turned into a half-hour ordeal. During which my youngest called me because he was sure I was in a ditch somewhere it was taking so long. I finally got myself home, and I have to tell you, that walk from the car to the door of my house has never, ever been so endless.

Guess what--within another 15 minutes or so--maybe a half hour at the most--father and son stroll through the door wondering where dinner is. They almost got shot, the turkeys! (Turned out they ran out of material at the job site and there wouldn't be more delivered for the next two hours.)

About this time I began being very sick to my stomach and the fever took over. I can tell when I have a fever because my mind starts going off in all kinds of directions. I could write good thrillers and science fiction under the influence of a fever, let me tell you. I wanted very badly to tape everyone's mouth closed, smash every TV and radio in the house, and declare a mandatory black out for the entire community. In the end all I could actually do was shiver and try to focus if someone was talking to me. And take cold medicine. And pray. Incessantly. It would be one thing if I was just a spectator in this wedding business, but no....

Thursday I woke up feeling pretty darn good. Over it. Yay. Got some laundry done. Picked my son up from work in the afternoon and he had some shopping to do--I wasn't quite up to wandering WalMart so I let him go in and get his stuff and a thermometer.

I know it's because I bought that thermometer that when I got home, I started getting the shivers again. Mind you all this time I still have a cough that when it hits just doubles me over. It's the kind of hacking jag that makes you wonder if you'll ever start breathing naturally again or if you'll just die coughing. So I'm taking daytime cough/cold gel caps for this because you know--this is the last day of laundry, etc. that I do before the rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding the day after that. Well, I wasn't able to cook dinner that night either. I checked my temp with my new thermometer--after already taking the cold medicine--and it sat at 102.8. I nearly broke the new thermometer. I was so mad. I could not believe this was happening. I don't get sick that often and I generally do shake it fast. But of course not when I really need to.

But Thursday night I got a decent night's sleep sitting up in my recliner. This after people grinched about dinner and the state of the house. I don't know if they thought I was faking or what, but I simply didn't have the energy to even send out the troops on their duties. If they couldn't see that it needed doing and do it, well it didn't get done. Have to say that my dear son did get pizza for he and his brother to eat. Dad worked late--grueling work but they provided dinner--and upon arriving home probably didn't feel a whole lot better than I did simply due to the physical exertion he'd put into the day. So it was easy to overlook his less-than-kind comments. Actually I slept through most of them. :)

Friday morning was rehearsal. My oldest got the day off work and drove us up there--my sis is about 1 1/2 hours away from my house. Yay! Rehearsal went fine. I felt fine. Outside of the cough. Which was quelled in most circumstances by cough drops. (I have grown to hate Fruit Breezers of any flavor!) We went to a great little Mexican place for lunch where everything tasted the same to me, and I really started winding down energy-wise. My oldest stayed there with friends and I drove back home with my youngest there to cheer me on. We got home about 3:00 and I had plans. Cough, cough. Drop off library books, stop by a car wash and wash the car, replenish my cough/cold capsule supply, (cough, cough, cough, cough, cough) run a load or two of laundry, get the living room and kitchen back in order, and not have a mess (cough) to come (cough) home to after (cough) the wedding. (cough, cough, cough, cough, cough) Wanna know how much I got done? (COUGH) Ouch! Pulled a muscle. In my shoulder. Every time I try to breathe deep it feels like someone is stabbing me below the shoulder blade. Panic. I tell you nothing makes me panic like not being able to breathe.

My son--the youngest and the worrier--is ready to dial 911. I talked him into letting me take a shower and see if I could ease things up a bit first. And I did. Once I got myself relaxed the pain began to lessen and so I decided h-e-double toothpicks with everything else, I was sitting in my recliner until I had to get out of it to head up for the wedding. If I could make the wedding. I was seriously beginning to wonder how I would break the news to my sister that I didn't want to drown out the "I dos" with my "cough, coughs."

Hubby was not a happy camper when he came home that evening. He went to bed mad. I wasn't even sure he was going to the wedding if I could make it. He'd had enough of no supper and a "filthy" house.

How could things get any worse?

This way: the cough medicine quits working altogether. The only thing that stops the cough is an endless stream of cough drops (now you understand why I'm not loving Fruit Breezers at the moment) and then for only as long as the cough drops last. I keep drifting off--sitting upright--with continual repetition in my brain of my mother's dire warnings about choking on candy if you fell asleep with it. (Fever's back). I not-so-kindly explained to Fever that at the moment I didn't care if I died. It was an excuse everyone would understand for not being at the wedding less than 24 hours in the future.

But contrary to Ma's predictions every thirty minutes or so I did wake up--and woke the house up--because I'm on another coughing jag. I'd wander the house and pick up a bit, fix some tea--by this time I'm living on green or green and white tea because everything else tastes like cardboard. I'm beginning to wish that I had a good excuse other than death for tomorrow. Something along the lines of--Carolyn has double pnemonia and the doctor wouldn't hear of her going anywhere but the hospital. (Then I'd think about the hospital bill and cancel that wish and pray that I please don't have to mess up my sister's special day. Not when she's had to go through so much to get there.)

I fell asleep at 4 AM and slept till 6 AM, and then because I seemed to do better upright than sitting or reclining, I finished cleaning my house. In little five-minute increments I'd assign myself a job, set the timer and go to it. And do you know that I managed to get my kitchen and living room to a point that I would have invited anyone in the door?

About 7 my dh woke up and I told him the good news first--no fever, and then he held me while I sobbed. I bawled that the medication wasn't working anymore, that I was so tired, and I didn't dare take anything new or different that might make me the least bit drowsy with a 1 1/2 hour drive ahead. (I had to be there at 10; the wedding wasn't till 3, so hubby and youngest were coming later). My husband went to Walgreens and talked with the pharmacist there and came home with a recommended 12-hour cough medicine, guaranteed non-drowsy. He administered the dosage, sent me off for a shower, and I felt tons better when I was ready to leave, but it was taking that medicine a while to kick in and the coughing was just wearing me thin--patience-wise and about every other -wise you can imagine. But I just kept telling myself "one foot in front of the other until you can't anymore, then take another step."

My youngest sacrificed big time--he went with me to make sure I wouldn't get sleepy driving--and then kept himself occupied through an 11 - 1 PM hair-do and make-up session for the bridesmaids. At least all this was going on at the home of friends who had a little black and tan dog named Bella who loved him, and he found some pretty remarkable figure skating on TV. He did such a good job and was just so eager and happy that he could help me. I think he even got some good before and after pictures that my sister will end up cherishing. I love him so.

After many prayers and many tears, I was there--dressed, alert, not coughing--looking amazingly well for the week I'd had, if I do say so myself. The wedding was absolutely gorgeous. So perfect in so many ways. You know, I never coughed once through the entire wedding talk and ceremony! It wasn't till it was over and they began taking pictures that I started in again, and I fished out the old daytime cough/cold medicine I had in my purse. And it worked this time. I am so grateful--so very, very grateful--for answered prayers and that I didn't have to miss a minute of her special day. It did my heart good to see her so happy.

And so here I am on a Sunday evening, looking at a surf and turf dinner that I want to have with my little family here. All of them came through for me at one time or another during the weekend. Yes, we all fell short in spots as well. But you know, if faults were all He looked for, who could stand? I live with three amazing people and I am very blessed, and I hope 20 years down the road, my dear sister finds herself saying the very same thing.