Pursuit of Happiness.
Our Founding Fathers must have known that our journeys educate while building our values and character ever so much as when we reach our destinations. Thus, the word, Pursuit before, Happiness. 

Freedom and Illegals.

The New Colossus

Emma Lazarus

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Last May, on one of the few warm, warm days, one of my students shared their birthday celebration with the class by bringing popsicles. I usually seat myself on an outside bench, invite the kids to line up, and pass to them the treats. For some reason - heat, heatstroke, weariness from two solid weeks of state core testing - I couldn't tell you then and I sure don't know now, the students bunched in groups around me. They weren't particularly noisy or pushy. Just a bunch of 4th graders excited and anticipatory about being given a cherry,or a banana, an orange, or a root beer flavored frozen ice on a stick. In the beginning, with the first wave of huddled, sweaty bodies, I invited them to form a line. Some students attempted a line formation but then the other 25 students bunched up again and the try to form a line students were pushed out. I extended the invite one more time - and, please keep in mind - these were not loud nor obnoxious 9 and 10 year olds. My brain clicked finally that a line was not going to happen - too many kids too set on creating a circle. 

Freedom and illegals - they want our freedoms, the goods resulting from our freedoms - our clean water, our flushing toilets, our dump yards, our housing, our clothes, our food, our jobs, our standard of medical care, our educational opportunities. Forming a line isn't part of their plan. They are of the circle mind. Recognizing this, my commitment is to teach and to have high expectations for this generation of students to do better, to be better. I  must be a lamp lighting their pathways while helping to raise their moral, ethical, educational, and spiritual standards that they may model decency and democratic service for the next and the next and the next generations. 

For a plethora of political and moral reasons, their circle will not be broken. 

Service.

"My sight has been failing, but my vision is improving."  

Apostle David B. Haight 

The Savior's model and meaning for our lives is service. From pre-existence, in our mortal state, and our post mortal existence, the Savior's supreme message is to serve one another. I have just figured this out. I think I have known this on some level or levels and thought I was serving but this summer I have come to understand and see with "new eyes" the meaning and mission of the Savior's life - and so my life, too.
I have always thought in a visceral way that Satan would not give his life to secure our eternal lives. He was too selfish, perhaps - and now the subject is dead anyway. But the Savior - "Here. Send me" - I sincerely pray each and every day of my mortal existence my response to my Heavenly Father's beckoning and our Savior's call shall be, "Here. Send me."

Fun and Games . . . Everyday. 

    

I have a s.e.r.i.o.u.s. addiction. 

I play internet SET and Quiddler everyday NO MATTER WHAT! 

SET is timed. 

My best time is 1 minute 10 seconds. 

Can you beat my time?

Internet address for these games - http://www.setgame.com.

My Jewel.

Paige asked me on Sunday - knowing that she would be in her math class on Thursday morning - if I would accompany Ivy to her neighborhood play group. "Of course!" 





The theme was "It's a Pirate's Life for Me." Ivy greeted me at the door in a great pirate shirt and her loverly pirate tatoos. We gathered with other kidlings at the Clubhouse. Our first adventure was making pirate hats. Ivy performed this activity in speedy time and eloquent fashion. She placed heart-shaped jewels on her skull's eyes. She dabbed other bright jewels - well, like many jewels to the front of her hat. Then about ten kidlings and nine moms and one grandma guided, chased, and scurried from pool to swing sets finding clues to the treasure. Guess what the treasure was? P.O.P.S.I.C.L.E.S! 





Way, way too warm for our pirates to lick outside. So . . . we lined them up in front of the clubhouse kitchen. Ivy was the only female pirate. All the other pirates fought to sit by her - even pirates appreciate real beauty. Play group was a great success in my humble opinion. I do declare, "It's a Grammi's Life for Me!"

Goose Times.





My father's father gave me a goose for Easter when I was ten years old. My grandfather knelt down by me on the just-turning green grass and slipped the soft-feathered baby from his jacket. He pulled my hand towards the baby forcing the baby to smell my hand. He covered the baby's eyes with his other hand. "He thinks you are his momma, now." 

Riley I named him. Riley followed me everywhere well into my 7th grade school year. He would stand on our back porch and screech and flap and screech and flap for me to play with him. He knew the time of day when I would get home from school. He stood in the middle of the road and flapped and flapped with joy as I rounded the bend walking or by bicycle. He stood guard for me as I dropped my school books and grabbed a snack to eat. Many a day, my mom would ask me to call Riley from the road so kids could walk on by to their homes. Our German Shepherd never posed a problem when family, friends, or strangers popped into visit. Riley, however, chased them right up the road. 

You're asking what became of Riley? The spring of my 7th grade year, another goose could be heard squawking in the pasture nearby. I woke one morning to find the back porch empty of my feathered pal. I could hear Riley in the pasture a hooting and a hollering with his new found female friend. My heart patters even today thinking of Riley . . . his trust, his friendship, his protection, his affection. 

Goose times with Riley.

Grandbaby Feeds.





The joy of summer is discovering new recipes and ACTUALLY HAVING TIME TO PREPARE THEM! This includes yummy treats for Eliza Paige. At 4 months old, she has a well-developed palate for bread sticks (the kind that come in little packets with cheese to dip into.) No. I don't dip the bread sticks into cheese - I am so much smarter than that! Also, Eliza loves, loves, loves her binky rolled in the sugar of those huge gum drops. No wonder Eliza has the bestest smiles and brightest eyes when her Grammi comes to babysit!