And I'm caving.
So, here we go......
Jeff Dunham is the funniest man on the face of this earth. I'm watching him as I type this and I'm having severe problems in not totally ROTFLOL. I never thought that a ventriloquist could be so hilarious, but I simply love his characters. Peanut is my favorite -- he's nearly as random as I wish I were. Walter's curmudgeon act is wonderful, even if much bleeping from the censors must occur. The new Christmas special is dang funny -- don't miss it if it happens to roll across Comedy Central during your watch.
Today we enjoyed a lovely Christmas party with our local homeschooling Park Day group. We haven't been able to do anything with them yet except for a field trip to the Star of India at the San Diego Maritime Museum, but I know many of the families involved. Having a homeschool group in our small town of 1200 is simply wonderful, and I'm replanning our schedule (as in skipping a chiropractic appointment after Mass) so that we can do more activities with the Park Day group. Sheri, my best friend here in town, opened her home and we enjoyed tea, coffee, and a lovely potluck lunch while kids jumped on the trampoline, ran around, chased the goats, played in the treehouse, made Christmas crafts, etc. Such a lovely way to finish up our homeschooling for the calendar year.
Grading essays is the bane of my existence. Truly. I adore one-on-one tutoring, I love being in front of a classroom. But a stack of essays waiting to be graded always seems to remind me of something extremely pressing I need to be doing instead, like trimming my toenails or plucking my eyebrows, Once I get going, I don't mind it tooooooo much, except for the students who haven't turned in their best work. Then I feel my frustration level rising as I mark the ninth sentence fragment or the seventh comma splice, not to mention the fifteenth misspelling. But when a student who has been struggling finally makes a breakthrough, it's sheer joy. I love teaching literature and writing ... so I guess if grading comes along with the territory, I'm just gonna hafta deal with it.
Tomorrow night two of my kids are going to be in our community's first Christmas play. Tomorrow we have to go set up the hall before the final rehearsal, and I was counting on our oldest son helping us set up two hundred chairs. But Number One son has spent all evening hanging over the toilet after getting sick three times so far. Why does it always happen that whenever we have a family event of some sort, one of the four children become very ill? It seems to be some twisted sort of karma or something. Not funny, Lord.
At Lake Murray I am somehow involved in all of our liturgical events. In February, I remind the staff of Ash Wednesday and Lent so we can send out a little blurb about Lent. During Holy Week I set up the Stations of the Cross in the sanctuary and *beg* for a Good Friday service. And during Advent, I get to line up the families to light the Advent candles. I love doing all these things because, as my regular readers know, liturgy is my life.
You know, it's not easy to come up with seven random mini-posts when one is a linear thinker. I will have to think these little seven thingymajiggies out more in advance. I promise they'll get better. At least they can't get worse, right?
And yes, I'm still laughing at Jeff Dunham while I'm typing this. My ribs hurt. My throat hurts. My face hurts. Gotta love him... and Peanut. Lotion or no lotion.