These are a few of my favorite things ...

It's late on a Saturday, but tonight I thought I'd do a list of some of my favorite things.  A tribute of sorts to Janetha of Meals and Moves, a girl who loves her lists. 

1.     Snow (in its season).  I'm a seasonal kind of girl.  When it's winter, I want to see snow.  I seriously believe that winter (and that fluffy form of precip) is nature's way of saying "Will you slow down already?" 

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2.  Iced Chai Tea (Tazo Tea from Starbucks esp.)  There's something about that combination of spices that is just so comforting to me!  It is my weekend endulgence.  Frankly, I just love Starbucks.  I like their attitude, I like curling up by their fireplace, and I like the people who wander through the door.  They have the nicest baristas in town.

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3.     Studio One's dancers.   I spend most of my time with them.  One of them is mine.  I think they're wonderful.  In a world that seems to encourage girls to be cutthroat and competitive, these girls are all about lifting one another to be their best.  You've gotta love that.

4.     Snow days.  There's nothing quite as much fun as waking up and then hearing that schools are closed for the day.  It's like this incredible gift of time.  Time to put something in the crockpot, curl up by the fireplace, and revel in coziness.

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5.     Old Movies.   I love TCM.  Give me Cary Grant over Hugh Grant any day. 

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6.     My daughter.   We spent such a fun day together today, and then she went in to work with me tonight.  How did I ever get so lucky?

7.  Blogs and Bloggers.  Yup, I like them.  I'm a fan of several,  in particular  Peas and Thank You, Danica's Daily, and Meals and Moves. 

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Have a great Sunday!

The Vernicious Van

When it runs ... I like it.  It does well on the snow, and it has pretty decent gas mileage for the behemoth it is.  It has ferried 7 ballerinas down to summer intensive classes for three years.  It has its good points - none of which would stop me from taking a bazooka to its engine block today ... if I had a bazooka.


This 2003 Chrysler Town and Country is the bane of my existence.  It is certainly the bane of my checkbook.  Every year it seems to require a big ticket visit to the mechanic.  Usually every six months.  I may as well be honest about it.  We've done the fuel pump,tires, an AC flush and recharge, new battery, brakes, and ... oh, it's too depressing.  This time around it is the air compressor, which has a bad bearing.  The compressor has had issues before, but so long as I didn't use the AC we were able to limp along just fine.  Hot, but fine.  The darned thing has taken the fatal leap now though. The compressor has to be replaced to the tune of $800.  It can't be driven until it is.


Not a good situation for someone who has to commute to work each day in an area with next to zero mass transit in the city.  Forget about the school out in the boonies where I teach.  Not a good situation in a family that has only two cars.  Car #2 is a 1992 Ford Explorer ... or the Battle Wagon as we refer to it.  It is a major threat to the environment (and to my checkbook), given its love affair with gasoline.  NOT the vehicle anyone in their right mind would use to commute in.  (Not the vehicle anyone in their right mind would purchase either, but that's another story.)


So, payday is still days away.  Don't know where the $800 is going to come from.   Joy, joy, joy.  The suggestion was made that I get a new car.  Tempting, but who has the money for another car payment?  Not me.  Besides, at the rate I'm going, I'm replacing this car part by part. 


I wonder how much a bazooka costs?

The Second Job

My full time job is teaching fifth grade.  I'll probably talk a great deal about that in the future, but today I want to talk about job #2.  On Fridays and Saturdays I work at a dancewear shop.  It's usually a pretty laid back job.  I have time to correct papers after I clean, organize the stock, deal with customers etc.  (This is the dead season for dance.  Our busy times of the year are the fall  (getting everyone decked out for the year of dance) and the spring (when everyone is prepping for recitals).  It's a pretty good second job ... except when my daughter visits and sees things that she adores.  I usually try to avoid that by having her make up a list of what she needs.  Keeping her out of the shop is much easier on my checkbook.  Although this week she sent a list for short leg warmers and a black Body Pop top.  Yes, I am thankful for our 20% discount.


Due to the closure of the only dance shop in the REGION that fit and sold pointe shoes, the owner of our shop has decided that the time is right to start carrying them.  She went to Florida to learn how to fit the shoes, the benefits of certain shoes for certain types of feet and a myriad of other "pointe shoe mysteries."  When she came home, she brought sample shoes and brochures home with her.  We're going through a crash course on pointe shoes right now.  None of the staff will be doing the fitting (yet), but it's important that one is educated when working in retail.  Right?  You bet!



I've learned a great deal in the past week -

• If a pointe shoe is not correctly fitted, the ballerina can easily break an ankle.  Umm ... seriously?  That doesn't exactly support buying pointe shoes online, does it?  Major guilt!  To my credit, Bailee did have fittings in the spring and fall.  I had no desire to drive 90 miles in our winter weather ... so we purchased her winter replacements online.  I had no idea what went into assuring that a girl has the proper fit.  Each foot has to be evaluated for type (more on that in a sec), and choices have to be made regarding the box, width, crown, vamp, shank (strength and length),  platform, and throat.  The fitter has to evaluate the type of shoe which is appropriate for the girl's ability, flexibility, arch, and the type of dance she is involved in.  This is a real science, folks!  My mind spins after reading through all the literature we received from So Danca (the shoes we will be carrying). 
• There are several types of feet.  Did you know there were types of feet?  I didn't.  Well, I guess I knew there were stinky and not-so-stinky feet ... but other than that, nope.   I'll admit that every foot has it's distinctive personality and look, but I certainly never thought about classification of said feet.  The three main classifications were the Greek Foot (where the second toe is longer than the big toe), the Square Foot (where the toes are squared off), and the Egyptian Foot (where the toes slant diagonally down).
• It seems that all ballerinas from ages 7-10 are rabid to get "on pointe" like the big girls.  I knew that in order for a girl to go on pointe that the growth spaces in the foot had to be almost closed, AND that the ballet mistress had to give her permission.  There's more though ... there has to be a sufficient natural arch in the foot, the dancer has to have good strength in the ankles, knees, and lower back muscles (that's where the ballet mistress comes in), and there can be no hereditary deformity of the feet, knees, or back.  It's difficult to think that a girl could come so far in dance and then have to abandon the option of going on pointe.
• Point shoes have to provide correct arch and metatarsal support.  They also have to facilitate "rolling" up and down from Pointe, and assist the dancer in establishing a central point of balance when on her toes.

It all spins my head a bit, but it's good to know.  The learning curve on this whole dance journey has been pretty steep.  Who knew I'd need to know all this stuff?

The Final Goodbye

Mike's funeral was today.  His family did a fabulous job of honoring him.  I really admire the courage it took for them to share their tender memories and feelings.  There were, of course, lots of tears.  His loss has had a profound effect on everyone who knew him.  There was so much love there ... you could really feel the impact this simple man had made on the world. 


There was also a great deal of laughter.  Mike had a wonderful sense of humor, and you couldn't really talk about him without sharing that part of his life as well. 


Some of the things that were shared included:

• The famous "milk runs" he made, taking at least one child along.  It was always a special time between father and child, and always included a special treat (that had to be eaten before they got home so the other siblings wouldn't be jealous).
• Practical jokes he played as a boy ... usually involving dead snakes and his mother (luckily those farm women were made of pretty tough stuff).
• When his son's asked him about who wore the pants in their family, he said,  "I wear the pants in our family ... but your mom tells me which ones to wear."
• On a trip to Mongolia (to visit his daughter-in-law's parents), he was honored at a local ceremony and was given fermented mare's milk to drink.  He bravely downed the whole glass - only to discover that in Mongolia this was a sign that more was desired.  He was happily presented with a second glass, but he made sure to leave this glass unfinished.
• He delighted his grandchildren by announcing "Let's all have some kickapoo joy juice!"  None of the grandkids knew what it meant ... other than the fact that it meant more fun with grandpa, and they would pile on him with squeals of delight.
• The millions of acts of service Mike performed, always putting others first, and doing so quietly.
• The depth of love and respect he had for his wife, and how he taught his sons to respect and appreciate women.
• The tender memories of his last days ...

Mike played a huge role in so many people's lives.  His life was truly a testament to the effect a good man, doing the right thing, can have on the world.  

A Living Legacy

You know, I dreaded today.  The first day without Mike.  It's a pretty horrible thought.  I expected to feel horrible today.  I'll be honest, I didn't feel good.  My nerves were raw, my eyes were sore, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted.

I teach fifth grade, and my kids were pretty needy today.  I looked at them and wondered where I was going to get the patience.  My evil twin wanted to yell, "Will you just sit down and leave me alone for a little while?" 

That's when it happened.  The thought snuck through ... "That isn't what Mike would do.  Mike would listen and smile and help."  So I listened.  I smiled (okay, it wasn't bright and shiny, by it still qualified as a smile).  I helped them.

That feeling continued all day.  Suddenly I realized that what was happening was so cool.  Somehow, my soul had taken care of healing the hurt.  What was the best way to honor Mike and show my love for him?  Simple.  I would live my life like Mike did. 

That's a pretty incredible legacy to leave behind, but Mike was an incredible guy.

Happy Trails

One of my dearest friends in the world died today.  Mike has been a fixture in our family for over ten years.  He has been the good man that was always there.  He provided us with love, service, laughter, and ten years of joy.


To say that I will miss him is so inadequate.  A piece of my heart passed away with him.  I'm glad he was able to take it with him though.  I will treasure all the memories I have of him, but right now I just cannot imagine life without him.


He won't be here to see Bailee finish growing up.  I hope he gets to watch from heaven.  The rotten part is that he won't be here to HELP Bailee grow up.  I hope she will remember how he lived his life.  I hope that she will remember the last things he said to her.  I hope that she will live her life to be a credit to this man who loved her like a grandfather.


Mike was a big John Wayne fan, so it seems appropriate to end with this quote:

John Wayne as Duke Gifford (Operation Pacific):
"He was a good man. Make sure that it says so on the patrol report." 

All the Posts I Could Write

There's a lot I could blog about today. I thought of many things throughout the day. I think a great deal on Fridays.

• Things that irritate me.
• Things I don't understand.
• Everything I learned about pointe shoes.
• Where my time goes and why I don't have enough of it.

I could go on, but all those possible posts evaporated when I got home from job #2 and read the blog that Mike's daughter-in-law is writing. He's slipping away from us. He really isn't able to visit with anyone anymore. Talking is nearly impossible. She promised that she would let us all know when he dies.

When he dies.

Just like that. My cuddly teddy bear of a friend is going to die, and there is nothing I can do about it. The finality of that statement hit me like a double semi truck (and then proceeded to roll back and forth over my heart for several minutes).

How did we get to this point so fast? He was cancer free only a few weeks ago. I haven't even been able to get my mind around the possibility that Mike might die -- and now we are talking about when he dies.

When I sat with him on Monday, which I now must assume was the last time I will probably share with my dear friend, he said -- "I can't imagine living without your family in my life." Oh Mike ... how can you expect us to live without you in ours? It will be so diminished without your hugs, your smile, and your gentle ways. There will be less light, and so many more shadows. There will be such a great emptiness in the places you used to fill. Now you're going on a journey and leaving us behind on the shore. I can't send chocolate chip cookies or cinnamon rolls with you. I can only send my love. Please know that you are taking so much love with you!

I have discovered that you can cry in complete silence, with tears slipping down your cheeks. Your heart can break, but it just keeps on beating. You can be angry and grateful at the same time. I hate that this has happened, but I am so grateful that our family had Mike and his family in our lives. He has been as close and as dear as a brother to me. Knowing him has been an honor and a joy.