Blogger Boo Hoo

     I cannot believe the blog fest for this composition class is at an end!  I had so much fun relaying my thoughts and feelings about going back to school, traveling to school and what goes on in my world while school is continuing on.  Throughout this entire assignment I have found my fellow classmates and their individual blogs quite interesting.  It was amusing to note the amount of blogs I read that were almost like a how-to do it book.  Actually, some of the posts were totally technical..  I was also amazed at the creative genius of photos, videos and automation used by a few of my fellow bloggers.  So many times while reading these blogs, I wanted to just explode and let my comments be heard.  Thank goodness I bit my lip (and typing fingers) in time. 
     When I initially signed on for English Composition, I knew two things.  I must take this course to complete my college education and I would love this course because I could write.  I did not care if my instructor assigned a specific subject to write about or we could just go random.  I just knew that I would be able to compose a story out of anything.  That is what I love to do.  This is why I was disappointed with the content of the blogs from many of my classmates.  I was so excited to compare my thoughts with theirs on the issues at large.  I just felt like I never really had a chance to get to know them via their personal blogs.  I guess I learned my first lesson on interpretation! 
     The second item I did not expect was the breakdown on our assignments.  I did realize that we would have to do some research, but using the technical resources at the university was quite unexpected.  I simply wanted to write, not be a photographer, videographer or aspiring advertising executive and campaign comptroller.  You can only imagine my surprise when I had to get off my high horse and learn the many aspects of composition class.  Many times I told myself that I could do it. 
     The third  item on the agenda that was totally unexpected were the extra credit opportunities.  I knew how desperately I needed the extra credit, but with my workload was unable to attend.  My mother even invited me to Washington to listen to one of the speakers required for extra credit.  Unbeknown st to me, she is a regular at this coffee spot.  I told her she could take notes so I could write about the session.  She laughed and told me I was a silly girl.  She said each person interprets these sessions quite differently and I just had to be there to understand!  That is one of my regrets, that my school schedule and personal schedule did not allow me to attend the extra credit opportunities.
     Last, but not least, I regret that this class went by so fast.  I cannot imagine how anyone could possibly take this course online.  The information we received in class was vital to obtain and maintain our grades.  My fellow classmates are an interesting lot and I look at my time spent with therm as a great experience in my life.  I wonder ten years from now if any one of them will remember me?
     Stephanie, your comments were exactly what I expected for a blog page.  Thank you for enabling me to continue my journey.  However, I'm afraid I will never get the credo thing down pat.  I just cannot seem to get past that Father, Son and Holy Ghost thing! 

Terror on the Streets

     I cannot believe that ill-fated day of reckoning is once again upon us.  In a few short days, Black Friday
will soon descend like a roaring volcano.  This has to be my least favorite day to leave the homestead. 
Really, why do retailers feel the need to tease the general public with fabulous bargains one stinking day a
year?   This year they have come out with a pre-black friday week of sales.  Oh my gosh, how much more
can the peanut gallery take I wonder. 
     First, we all have to contend with the Santa Claus Parade Day in downtown Peoria.  My mom used to
drag my sister and me to this torture in freezing weather every year.  It took me forever to realize that she
wasn't really too impressed with the parade, just the giant craft sale in the Civic Center.  Man was I glad
when she grew out of the country period and in to the art deco design.  Believe me when I tell you that
Lakeview is much more entertaining.
     How can anyone contend with the parking lot wars.  Some innocent bystander pulls out of a high market
value parking place and vehicles are jamming into that spot like wild animals.  I'm totally sure George Carlin
would have blushed at some of the epithets spit out over a portion of blacktop.
     Don't even try to stop for a quick bite to eat on this day.  All the parade goers have packed up their
minivans and are circling the corral of fast food joints looking for a quick bite.  The early shoppers often sit in
the drive thru looking like refugees from some unknown war.  They just stare at the vehicle in front of them
waiting for that moment of glory.  You know, when they get to place their order.  The parade people drag
every single whiney child inside the eatery.  I think this is the only day of the year when children are truly
possessed by the ghost of hamburglars past. 
     I must confess that I did wait in the wee hours of the morning a few years ago to purchase a WII gaming system.  Mom told me she almost lost an eye in North Carolina back in the day.  She said it was virtually impossible to get a cabbage patch doll and by golly I wanted one.  So, I'm guessing this proves that amid the holiday happenings we all get a little bit crazy sometimes.

Thinking about Turkey Time

     Well, it's the week before Thanksgiving and I'm sure all my classmates cannot believe it either.  Thus far this blog session has gone by fast and furious.  Every week I sit down at the computer with my mind at a blank and somehow always seem to get something up there to think about.  I really was going to devote this post to people and events that everyone should be totally thankful for, but changed my mind.  As my children started bringing home hacked up cut outs of the Nina, Pin ta and Santa Maria, pilgrim hats and Indian corn, I thought about all the interesting past Thanksgiving feasts I had the pleasure of attending.
     My grandparents always had quite a spread on this day.  My mother actually has five other siblings and this made for one big fest of food.  Her family does not drink alcohol, so I can remember eating, playing games, munching on pie all day, and doing it all over again for dinner.  The men, of course, just stayed glued to the tube to watch football.  When they realized how much fun they were missing by not playing the games, they left the living room and entered the game room.  The most interesting part were the guests.  My grandparents always invited acquaintances or friends that had no family to celebrate with, or no children to have their dinner with either.  I actually never knew who would be attending and often relatives or friends dropped by during the day.  It was an exhausting time, but well worth the fellowship.  Since my grandfather has  passed away, those days are no more.  All I have left are the memories.
     One year my grandmother was visiting relatives in Scotland, so my mother decided to cook the meal.  She invited my stepfather's father and his lady friend, my grandfather, my sister and I, and my stepfather, of course.  We lived in a wonderful little three bedroom cottage type house.  When you stepped inside the front door you were surrounded by comfort.  It was very homey and very small.  Mom put our puppy outside during the meal for good reason.  That dog would eat anything.  We all sat down, said grace and started to dig in when someone knocked loudly on the front door.  The neighbor down the street had a very large brown pet rabbit that wore a collar and stayed chained to a post in their front yard.  Apparently the bunny was missing and she was frantic to find him.  Mom told her our yard was double fenced, but she could take a look.  Well, the next thing we hear is a big scream.  Our dog Shadow had chased the bunny down in the back yard and literally shook it to death.  She then buried the rabbit under our deck and only two little brown legs were sticking out of the dirt.  Shadow was so pleased with herself, mother was not.  Although the lady threatened to sue, the moment I recall most vividly is my grandfather's reaction.  After he finished choking and laughing for a very long time, he told our neighbor she was "nutso".  Apparently, since the rabbit hopped into our backyard, his demise was not our responsibility.  Some type of private property ordinance I guess.  Anyway, those holiday photos are quite memorable!
     Now our family togetherness is nonexistent on Thanksgiving.  We are all grown, with our own families and it is so difficult to spread time between this relative and that relative.  I can say, however, that I have never spent  any time anywhere more interesting than with my Mom's family.  The laughter was from the gut and the memories are forever.  After much thought, I think I just might begin this type of gathering for my children to have their own fond memories. 

What's the Point?

     So I am reading all the comments on my past blogs and decided to take some advice and do this blog in word, then transfer it to my blog page.  I composed this perfectly awesome little notation about my last trip to ICC.  It was like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, and I thought the commentary would be amusing to my fellow classmates.  So I have three hundred or more words (not including title) in this fabulous composition and you would not believe what followed after I pushed the SAVE button.
     I thought I must import my word document to my blog page.  No problem, after I checked all the prompts on both WORD and the NEW POST sites.  Now, if you are not a computer savvy person you will totally realize the dilemma I have gotten into.  First you bring the blog site up and attempt to transport the word document.  What in the heck do I do now?  I've been working at this stinking thing for hours.  Compose the blog, edit the blog, correct the blog, import the blog and it is not working.  I just keep getting this message that says my document did not transfer due to an error with the server.  I mean I kept trying this process over and over again until it finally stuck in my muddled brain this was a futile effort or I was most definitely doing the wrong thing. 
     Then, in all my brilliance, I decided to put the word document up on my computer screen and put my blog blank page on top of it.  Maybe I could shrink one or the other to the side and just type from one into the other.  Not going to work.  After all that screen is only so big and those word documents do not shrink at all.  Then I thought I'd just write the blog down and then type it into my blog page.  Oh no you don't.  It's 1:30 in the morning now and I'm just too tired to deal with that process.  I'm sure you're going to ask why I didn't just print the stupid thing.  Because, I just got a brand new Kodak printer and have not set it up yet to accept documents from my laptop.  Come on people, that's a whole new worm hole to figure out and I'm not willing to start it right now.
     So here I am typing a brand spanking new blog about my blog.  What did I learn tonight and this early morning?  Never again will I type my blog in word.  Never again will I try to import anything.  I shall just check my spelling the old fashioned way, by reading over my work.  Until I figure out what I'm doing wrong or what server error means, I guess I am destined to be computer ignorant! 

Seeing Eyes

     It's past midnight, I'm sitting on my couch wrapped in my snuggie and text books are spread around me
like chunks of wood waiting to be thrown in the fire.  I know the pages I am staring at must be absorbed
completely and accurately by the next morning.  Not enough time, just not enough time, certainly not enough
time to let this sink in.  Once again I flip the pages back to memorize the mayhem and I take a sharp breath.
 My eyes are so weary that the pages are unreadable.  I simply cannot do this with my organ of sight tuned
into blur mode.  I dropped some Visine and closed my lids for a few seconds.  I never realized how
frustrating the lack of vision could  really be.
     I thought of my grandmother, who suffers with macular degeneration.  This hideous, incurable disease
damages the center of the retina, also called the macula.  The eyesight becomes compromised and quite
blurry because the macula makes vision sharper and more detailed.  How horrible it must be for a person
gifted with poetic talent and outstanding writing abilities.  I have never seen my grandmother without a book
in her hand or at her side.  I recently learned of her final requiem.  She is now unable to drive and must hang
up her car keys.
    I thought of my mother who has lived since childhood as a diabetic.  The countless eye injuries and
surgeries she has endured just seem natural to me.  Although she often has vision in only one eye, she
continues to persevere.  She once told me that people just do not realize how vital eyesight really is to an
individual.  It effects absolutely every moment of every day in every way.  Listening to her version was much
more interesting than watching her struggle with the everyday tasks that I had witnessed repeatedly, and had
taken for granted as normal for mom.
     Try to put your makeup on with just one eye.  The foundation is tricky, just keep rubbing.  The eye with
vision will allow the opposite orb to look lovely.  Practically perfect in every way.  When the blind eye is
doing the looking, expect crooked lines and the look of Frankenstein.  Don't even attempt to take a short
stroll on a brisk fall evening.  Without both eyes, the vision is distorted and a person lacks the ability to judge
distance. Therefore, steps going up become falls on the face, steps going down become sprained feet and
ankles.  God forbid there should be a rock or pebble on the path.  This become a major catastrophe such as
a full body fall to the pavement with multiple broken bones.  Exposure to bright sunlight disguises all objects
within the visionary vortex.  You must always wear sunglasses and immediately remove them when moving
from light to dark or outside to inside.  Stand in front of your television to switch the channels.  It is so
frustrating to attempt to switch channels when you simply cannot decipher the numbers or letters.  Always, I
mean always ask a friend to help with jewelry.  It's probably hard to believe a one eyed person would look
nice with baubles, but they really do.  Get a bright reading light to view the newspaper.  This must be done at
an angle because direct light eventually becomes one big bright spot on the newsprint.  Do not expect to be
able to sit and read a book from cover to cover.  Your one eye will overcompensate for the bad eye and
cause the brain to make your good eye work overtime.  Your eye will become very tired and the blind eye
will wander to and fro with a mind of it's own. When renewing your drivers license, just memorize the sound
of the clicks on the vision test.  The light is always on the same side as the click.  While driving, use the
mirrors with your good eye at all times.  Be prepared to suffer severe neck pain from swivel neck.  This is
caused from the whole body turn you must make to see oncoming lanes of traffic and who you must not
collide with in the next lane. If you have house pets that wander freely through the abode, expect to squish
their feet and toes often.  Eventually they will get sick of this and run to a hiding spot when they see you
stumbling into a room.  Last, but not least, expect to overlook just about everything while shopping. 
Two searching eyes are much quicker and penetrating than one  very tired and overworked eyeball.
      I realize mom makes light of her vision problems often.  Her best friend sent her a card with a pirate face
on the front.  Inside that card she had written a short note to take care of herself or she would punch her in
the good eye.  She laughed hysterically and I informed her I thought it was a sick joke.  She then informed
me her best friend was dyslexic and it had probably taken her hours to write that one simple sentence.  No
wonder those two get along so well.  One can't see and one can't write.
      As our conversation came to a close, I had to wipe tears from my eyes when I remembered what my
mother had last said on this subject.  She told me to remember all the years growing up when she had held
us, hugged us, grasped our hands, and gave us kisses.  Actually, she still does this, especially with the
grandchildren.  She told me her hands knew the touch of our bodies and she had memorized the scent of our
skin and could find us in a blind snowstorm.  As the famous quote from Helen Keller states, "The best and
most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.".

Frost-A-Lot

     I have just about had it.  Sometimes I wonder how many times other people have said this and how many times they wondered what "it" really was.  I guess every day has begun to run together like one long hike on a never ending desert.  Maybe it's time for a change.  I thought about weight loss, but food is my best friend.  I thought about the wardrobe, but I definitely do not reside in New York.  How about my hair?  Yes indeed this could just change my whole outlook for awhile.
     After making the big hair decision, I called a couple of hair styling saloons.  No way was I going to throw fifty bucks plus tip down the shampoo drain.  Both daughters have a birthday this month and you have no idea what a double princess party costs.  My next choice was to just try one of those frost at home kits.  After all, it couldn't be too difficult. All I really wanted was a few Hollywood blonde streaks to blend into the multicolored mop that already existed.  At this point there was only one teeny, tiny obstacle left to conquer.  I must convince my better half to help.
     After making a delicious, pain in the butt dinner, taking care of kids homework and bath and picking up the homestead, I popped the question.  I was blown away when he agreed to do it.  I didn't even have to beg, bargain or whine.  I put the plastic cap on my head, I pinned the hair back that I didn't want hair color on and handed him the metal hook.  I told him to start pulling strands of hair through the top two layers of the cap while I mixed the solution. It all seems so simple, right?  Let me tell you right now that I'd rather birth triplets than go through an excruciating hour of pain with an uneducated froster.  Since it took him an hour, I decided to just pull the bangs through by myself.  When I glanced over and saw him putting the rubber gloves on, I knew real fear.  My next instruction was to just slather the mixture all over the plastic on my head.  Although the stench was overpowering, the coolness of the peroxide paste was somewhat soothing to my tortured scalp.  Now all I had to do was wait either 20 minutes or 40 minutes, whatever worked best first.
     So, I decided to wait an in between amount of time, about 30 minutes.  I jumped into the shower, pulled the cap off and shampooed my hair.  I'd been through this process so many times with a professional, I didn't even bother to glance before the rinse.  As I toweled my golden streaked locks, I happened to catch a glimpse of it in the mirror.  I'm sure the scream could be heard worldwide.  My hair had orange and pink streaks in it.  What was I going to do?
     The next few hours went by in a blur.  I called Mom crying and she called a stylist friend of hers.  She arrived with my mom and chemicals in tow.  It took much longer to fix it than it took to mess it up.  Finally, the results were acceptable for public viewing.  Mom was a wee bit irritated that she had to shell out a cool hundred dollar bill to get me up and going.  As I walked to class, I wonder how annoyed she would have been if she had seen the multitude of hair colors on campus that following morning.
    

The Great Escape

While travling through a neighboring town recently I made an abrubt decision to stop and park my vehicle.  The majestic trees on the quaint village square were just beginning to change into the beautiful fall colors.  The warm sun seemed to beckon me from my bucket seat.  What the heck, a wee ten minutes. I had certainly earned it.  I went over to the park bench and took a moment to gaze around.  The multitude of vendors seemed to beg me to enter their plate glass establishments.  With great strenghth I was able to cast off the sound of the siren.  Also, I just remembered  that I had left my visa at home.  Then I  spied it !  An authentic candy store.  My entire body lept off the bench and on to the front step.  My hands shook with excitement when I gripped the old, copper and wooden screen door.  YA BABY!!!!  I was certainly in heaven.  Soda fountains, mounds of chocolate truffles displayed in glass cases, popcorn of every breed or flavor.  Last,  but not least,  there was candy, cherry and gooey, it was crunchy and most of all munchy.  My eyes focused on the salt water taffy jar.  It took true skill to look graceful as they shoveled those tidbits into the brown paper bag.  As I handed the last of my gas allowence to the cashier I knew eternal glory was near.  Any thought of homework, diapers and exhaustion flew out the window.  Today's contest was over and I have won.  That soft, sweet taffy was my reward for the day.

It has been apparent that I must visit the library.  Such an unpleasant thought crossing through the enterance doors.  i just knew my body would begin to cower.  My baby blues would be darting to and from, searching for the nearest exit sign.  Childhood memories have taken charge.  As a small child my mother would take us to the local library for storybook time.  My sister would sit indian style with the other kids on the floor The beguiled look on her face use to blow me away.  Mom thought all her apt attention was on the dedicated reader and the story line.  I knew she was just killing time until cookies and juice was served.  My problem was the little girls room.  I could relieve myself five minutes before we hit the entrance, yet my bladder always betrayed me.  I would slither close to my mom and say" please mom".  She never had a problem letting me go.  She made me go solo.

As I stepped through those doors the library seems to come alive.  I spied no suit and armor encaing ghosts from by gone bloody battles.  There was not flag wraped up in the frame.  All indian artifacts are housed in catalog drawers, reffering to the pictires in the book.  Last but not least there are no existing stairs to climb to the restroom.  I had no fear that the tinkle and the flush sound would resonate to the captive audience below. 

Snack time

In my wildest dreams i never imagined food as an issue in college life.  Peolple who know me and love know my issues.  Belive me when i say food is not one of them.  When i can not fit into my jeans i simply whatch the things i put in my mouth.  Nourishment consists of mountain dew and doritos.  When i am on a weight loss mission the sight, smell and thought of food is blocked from the senses.  After about a week i slip on those to tight jeans and snap them proudly shut.  Then my erratic eating style kicks back into high gear. 
So i wrangle my car into the parking lot not giving my lack of breakfast a thought.  My mom always made sure me and my sister had breakfast, i also do so for my children.   Lately, my schedule allows me to quickly suck down a fountain mountain dew and chew a piece of long lost trident at the bottom of my purse.  I was mortified when my growling stomach would not quiet itself in class. I feel the entire class can hear my moans and groans.  There was no way to blame anyone else.  I notice a fellow student sucking on a peppermint.  As his tongue maneuvered that candy around his mouth  and against his teeth, i just close my eyes.  Could he just chew the dumb thing up and swallow it.  Somebody was chomping their Hubba Bubba.  There was no snapping or popping involved because she smiled and talked with her mouth open.  It was like watching dirty laundry roll around in the washing machine.  Please close your lips before i PUKE!  Right then and there i made a decision.  When i lay out my kids clothes for the next day, i would lay something for me to munch on the next day.  Many classmates may snack durning class and listen intently.  My future preoccupation shall be the ingestion of info .

Scorched

My decision to return to school was not reached with blinders on.  I knew that most of the normal rituals in my life would be disturbed. Oh my goodness! I had absolute no inkling of the horror about to occur. I heard a rap artist recently. He said he would like to party all night til he was dead.  Well this fellows stairway does not go all the way to the top.  With that much free time I would sleep. I need rest!!! My body craves a soft bed and a pillow. My eyes are like burning coals that leave permanment dark circles under my lashes.  Yes, i do have respect for my body along with my eye sockets, but i can not regress on my ultimate quest.  A higher education.  There is not a desire for admiration from my peers or subordinates.  I could care less if i had 10 titles after my name or no titles at all.  It is just that simple.  I can not lay stagnate in the sand and allow my brain to scorch.  I am tired.  I must study for the biology test.  I must read and absorb 4 chapters tonight.  Oh ya and the homework that is due in the A.M.  Alrighty then! Grab another cup of coffee and one more energy bar.  This too shall pass and i will make it to class.

Been under too long.

As that long departed famous jelly doughnut eater would say, "Thank you, thank you very much."  Finally, i am cruising up and down these Hallowed hallways, looking for the correct classroom.  Actually, This feels like the first time "I am in the groove".  Without being to obvous, i notice a large percentage of wayfaring  participants doing exactly the same thing i am doing.  Slide discreetly through appropriate door.  Find seat in the middle of the class, close to the EXIT sign. Classmates practically sitting on top of my lap learns Ban does wear off, Before the day wears on.  Figure clever method of transmitting common sense.  Low riders and thong underwear are such a nasty combination.  Especially when the student is sitting smake dab in front of me.  I make a curious observation after everyone picks their oasis for the upcoming two hours.  A portion of the class is prepared with pen and notebook on top of the desk.  The remainder of the class just fidgits. They remind me of chopping white onion pieces floating in congealed crisco. Yep, they are cooked, they are ready, they just do not know what they are ready for.  As for me and my notebook, we will do as we are told.  Mom used to drive me nuts with all her crazy quotes.  This time the tidbits of advice seem to fit just right. Take notes, lots of notes because that instructor is not here for an audition.  Ask questions, sort it out and pay attention.  Once you bind it all together and make it work you will recieve that golden chalice-a passing grade.  Then maybe you can poke your head out in the surf and breathe.

Time for the O2 mask

It is quite possible that i have given myself a pat on the back way to soon this morning.  Kids are fed, dressed and on their way to school.  The babu is secure and in safe hands until my class is over.  I mad a quick stop at the corner gas station for a pick me up.  Now with Mountain Dew in hand and the SUV on cruise, i am on the raod again.  My first real week of college studies and i can not wait!!  After carefully maneveuring my car into the fast disappearing parking spots, i turn my car off in complete and utter amazement.  Oh sure, there are tight, quaint groups of college groupies migrating towards some unknown point of enterance.  The most intriging folks appear to be in robot phase.  Depart vehicle with backpack hanging, shake head to alert frontal lobe and open eyes, trod in unison to some point of no return.  OH MY GOSH!!! I am positive i am not in Kansas anymore.  At least i am able to blend in with my current fashions on display.  It appears i may be minus a few tiny blings on my body.  No face piercings that dangle, blink or catch snot from my nose.  No tatoo to express my religious beliefs, deceased pets, or poetry calligraphy of redundit thoughts of words.  It is just me.  I did not spike my hair, shave my head to make a statement.  I also did not arrive braless or with shiny toenails .  I came to learn, ingest education that may just require a little help from an oxygen mask.

Diving Lessons

Ah yes, I am most definitely loving this feeling of euphoria. The sun is like a lovely, warm heating blanket flowing over my skin.  The lackadaisical breeze gently blows on the skin that i have exposed.  I must jump up to the experience mounds of soft, white sand in between my toes.  This tiny movement causes goosebumps to appear, as if they were on command.  Only slightly do i feel the tiny particles shake down to the ground.  Down to the place of origin-the beach. How i love the crisp, quiet ringing of the beach.  Ringing?  What the heck is ringing doing on my beach?  My beautiful beach is disintegrating and my open eye lid observes a snoopy alarm clock waiting to be slapped.  This is it.  Once more, with feeling, i ask myself if i have lost my mind.  i am going back to school and this time i must learn.  I must absorb the knowledge of the career i have finally chosen and do a mind meld with the stuff that is already in my brain.  Who really know what lies dormant in there?  It has been so long since i memorized any really useful knowledge.  I am scare. Not intimidated by the warning light flashing in my gut, just scared.  Two children to get off to school every morning, one baby to diaper, feed and keep on a schedule, hours of homework and a household to maintain.  I am taking the big dive. Can i do it?  Yes, i can!!!

The Big intro!

The stuff i am sharing in my info is important to me but maybe not to you. Trust me it will change anyhow here is a little bit about me. My name is Megan. I am from Elmwood orginally but later moved to Morton with my own family. I have some well alot of conservative views but am open to new thing now that i am really learning to live. I have 3 beautiful kids that can be very trying alot of the times thats what makes me love them even more. Til a couple weeks ago i was a full time mom and housewife. I have begun a journey that i am ready to embrace.