Another Restaurant Review

Saturday night was an adventure. From start to finish. It was girl's night out. Emily Connell, Emily Sleeman, Kristin Schaub and I headed downtown Fells to spend time together fellowshipping (and eating, of course!). We arrived downtown and found a parking spot more easily than expected. We began walking towards the restaurant, when one of us (ME) was unsure of our directions. SO, we asked a kind, but not so bright, shop owner where we should be headed. She sent us in the opposite direction. Away we walked. As the shops, pubs, and restaurant began to fade, we realized we were headed in the WRONG direction. So we called the restaurant and they sent us back in our original direction. Success. We were led up a flight of stair, into a gorgeous old building on Thames Street. Kali's Court and Mezze, to be exact. (Check out the City Paper review.)

There are two restaurant linked together--Kali's Court and Mezze. We accidentally entered through the wrong entrance, but were taken through to Mezze. It was quite confusing, but worth the race through the maze. It seemed that Kali's court was a more upscale restaurant, while Mezze was a more relaxed, "fun" place to eat. However, we ate upstairs in a beautiful, comfortable, dimly lit room with a total of seven tables. The perfect atmosphere for fellowship and fun. I would be sure to ask for a table in the upstairs room if you ever plan to eat at Mezze--if you want a more romantic, quiet atmosphere.

Mezze is famed for its Tapas (small plate) style, Mediterranean food. We each ordered two different entrees, well, Emily and I each ordered three. As they brought out the plates, we shared the amazingly prepared and displayed items. "There is no other way I'd rather share germs," said Emily Sleeman. And it was true. We all sampled the various foods, having seconds of some and passing on others.

The group consensus was that the salmon was incredible, the spinach fritters were divine (don't listen to Kris' opinions!), and the tuna was succulent, though raw--a warning for those who have a weak stomach. We also sampled baked mussels, braised lamb, quail (definitely the most nicely presented item), shrimp raki, portabella mushrooms, baked eggplant (not a favorite even though I love eggplant), and chicken kabobs (for those less adventurous...ahem...Kris). The menu was extensive, and there are many more items that I would love to sample on my next outing to Mezze!

You know you watch too much T.V. when....

You see the license plate GSR 326 and automatically think: "GSR" stands for gun shot residue, every CSI fan would know that!

You hear someone talk about Guatemala and you mention that Gary just got kicked off Survivor, whether or not the conversation was about Survivor, it doesn't matter.

You see a fat person at work and wish they could go to the fat ranch on the Biggest Loser. You just KNOW they could lose 100 lbs like Matt.

You JUST KNOW that your vice principal would win the nomination for Extreme Makeover, if nominated by good intentioned coworkers.

You sit and wonder what "your room" would be like if you were on Extreme Home Makeover--mine would be a rockclimbing room, or maybe a library with kids books!

(I was seriously thinking about these things at some point in the last week...how sad!)

Easy Pesto

Lately, we've been making our own paninis for dinner. Forget Panera, here come the Barowski's ;-) In all seriousness, we have been making paninis and adding this incredible pesto sauce for a nice zing. Here is the quick and easy recipe for the pesto and paninis.

In a blender, combine the following:

3/4 cups of fresh basil (or five or six hard shakes of dried basil--don't know how much!)
1/4 cup of Parmesan cheese
>1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup pine nuts (or a handful of walnuts--because we don't have pine nuts)
1 clove of garlic

Add all ingredients in a blender. Blend three minutes or until smooth.

To make Paninis:

One chicken breast cut thinly, grilled.
onions, raw, thinly sliced
sharp cheddar cheese, sliced
2 slices of bread
Pesto

Spread pesto on one side of the bread. Add chicken, onions and cheese on top. Place other side of bread on top of cheese.

We use an indoor grill/George foreman to grill the panini for three minutes. I suppose you could use a buttered griddle as well!

This panini goes wonderfully with soup, especially on brisk evenings like tonight!

101 things to do before...

I am currently enrolled in a dread awful class--assessment for reading. Instead of listening to my classmates drone on (the teacher NEVER teaches), I have found more exciting ways to occupy my time. This past week, for example, I came up with my list. Let me explain. After reading an article in the magazine Real Simple, I was inspired. Inspired to write my list of things that I would like to do before I die. Some of the items are short term (#27 Get my masters) and others are long term (#41 Work closer to home). This list will continue to grow and change, lengthen and shorten, as I grow and change over the coming months and years. I have some silly things on my list (#14 Weigh between one hundred something and one hundred something before I have kids OR #9 Play Black Jack in Vegas). And some outrageous things on my list (#3 Become a child advocate--either a lawyer or free lance). And some things are nothing more than a dream (#5 Write and publish an adapted children's book for students with disabilities). Some are obtainable in the next year (#18 Learn to make Eggplant Parm.). And some are beyond the realm of this year (#42 Own a VW Toureg or an XTerra).

What would be a few things at the top of your list?

Humbolt Earth

This weekend (and beyond) was spent doing more remodeling on our house. Remodeling that we've wanted to do since we moved in. We braved the lines at the brand new Lowes...braved them six different times over the course of two days, we did! The outcome was a drastically different living room and hallway. We transformed the living room from a yellowish color (Which I hear Abi and Jimmy never liked to begin with), to Humbolt Earth, a chocolately brown. Crown modling is next in line for the living room. Kristin said "the room looks formal, but I like it." We added new light fixtures to the entryway, kitchen and upstairs hallway. Amazing what a little update into the 21st century can do! ;-) I bet the lights we replaced were the originals from when the house was built in '89??! =)

I don't have finished product pictures yet, but when everything is finally put together, I will post them! Or ya'll can just drop by. Hmm, I retract that statement. As much as I'd love for you to just "stop by," I can't handle a mad rush! So do us a favor and call first! :-)

Thank God for friends! Ken Wood stopped by all day Saturday to help install the new light fixtures, change out sockets, etc. I am convinced he stopped by for the FIVE sandwiches he ate at lunch!! But either way, he is an awesome friend, and a gifted electrician! Thanks Ken Wood! Kristin stopped by too. But somehow she managed to get out of any sort of work! She grabbed her magazines and ran. Then again, she did put in MORE than her due when we bought the house. I guess Kris is forgiven.

Anyway, this weekend was truly a renovating time--for the house and me personally.
God revealed a lot of sin in my heart this past weekend--impatience, anger, and much more. He faithfully reminded me that the work in our house is a process, one which will not be completed over night. Indeed, the renovations may take weeks or months in some cases. But, He gently reminded me that He will finish the work He started, just as we are GOING to finish the work we started!!! Let's pray God's timing for completing work in my heart is much shorter than our time line for completing the work on our house!

Restaurant Review

Monday night I went to a new restaurant in Hampden, right on the Avenue. That's 36th Street for those of you who are unfamiliar with the area. The restaurant is named "Suzie's Soba." It is famed for it's noodles. Everything is noodles. And Asian. Asian noodles.

AND, it's incredible. You can read the City Paper review, or simply take my word for it.

The spinach and shitake, killer. The Banana Tempura, amazing. The ginger limeade, incredibly delicious. Everything (except dessert) is eaten with chopsticks, which only adds to the ambiance of the place.

If you are looking for an inexpensive and adventurous night out, Suzie's will surely not disappoint.

yogurt

I haven't posted in a while, mainly because I haven't had the opportunity--nor the material--to post. I kept wishing I had something, just a little something to write about. I could post about my student plucking out my eyebrows, yeah, that's a cute story. Or, I could post about my lunch-time incident. That was not so funny. So the lunch-time story won out!

I have eaten yogurt with my lunch since I was in high school. The love affair with yogurt hasn't ended, nor is it likely to. Though my recent luck with yogurt hasn't been so great. Last week I had vanilla yogurt, plain vanilla. I also had shoes on with tiny holes on the top for decoration purposes (that is an important fact!). After eating my sandwich, I opened the yogurt and decided to walk to my class and finish eating there. Somehow, between the lunch table and the trash can I forgot that the yogurt was open. I managed to dump 3/4 of the entire contain down my leg and onto my foot. Remember that the shoes have holes in the top. In went the yogurt. Down between my toes. Under the arch. In the creases. Sick. I gasped. Co-workers laughed.

Today, my daily yogurt was no different. I had a PBJ and a cherry vanilla yogurt. I had eaten my PBJ and was getting ready to eat my yogurt. I took off the plastic lid. The foil was still securely on underneath, or so I thought. I began to shake my yogurt like I do every day to mix it. As I did, the contents of the container ended up ALL over my white dress shirt. Pink blobs flew everywhere--across the table, onto the floor, on my shoulder, in my lap. Grrrrrr. I looked and realized that the yogurt foil was half-way open. How did that happen?! My co-worker suggested that perhaps I had bought it from the store like that. I figured someone had opened it and forgotten to tell me? Maybe another co-worked mistakenly thought it was theirs?!

This evening, I arrived home and HAD to ask Miguel about the mysterious open yogurt. Sure enough, the boy had opened the yogurt intending to eat it. When he realize it was not plain vanilla, but cherry vanilla, he kindly put the half opened container back into the fridge for my consumption. Lovely.

Some say I should give up my quest to eat yogurt every day until I die. However, I walked away with two simple lessons learned: One, never again will I open my yogurt and then forget that it is open. And two, I will never shake my yogurt BEFORE checking the foil wrapper.

What's in a name?

I told my dad that if he had a blog, this story should be in it! But since he doesn't, I felt it still to be blog-worthy...

On Tuesday, a little girl went into the school office where he works. She proceeded to tell the secretaries that she knew Jesus' last name..."Amen."

As in, "In Jesus' name, Amen."

I had to chuckle at the originality of her little mind!

For My Sister

Sacha went apple picking today in New England. If I had've been with her, my apples would have been used in this recipe:

Jewish Apple Cake

Ingredients
4 lg Apples--Granny Smith or Red Delicious are my favorites-you can use more apples if you'd like
2 tsp. Cinnamon
5 T. Sugar

3 c. Flour
3/4 tsp. Salt
2 1/2 c. Sugar
1 c. Oil
4 Eggs
3 tsp. Baking Powder
2 1/2 tsp. Vanilla
1/3 c. Orange Juice (the secret ingredient!!)

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Peel, core and slice apples. I like mine sliced thinly and cut into one inch pieces.
Combine first three ingredients in a medium sized bowl.
Let sit while combining remaining ingredients in another bowl.

Pour about a one inch layer of the batter into a tube pan.
Place the cinnamon sugar apples in a thin layer over the batter. Make sure the batter is covered, but not too thickly or the cake will stay raw.
Continue to alternate layers until all of the apples and batter are gone. If you end with apples, they may brown or even burn. Be careful!

Bake for 1 3/4 hours. At times, I've needed to add another 20 or so minutes to bake time.

***Sacha, let me know how it turns out! =)

Escalators

I don't remember my first outing to the mall. But I wish I did. I am sure it was with my mom. Perhaps it was to look for new shoes for my ever growing feet, or maybe to buy her favorite Lilly of the Valley perfume from Crabtree and Evelyn. I don't remember. But I wish I did.

Simple firsts, like the mall, grocery store, and Target are memories that I've long forgotten. I take for granted my ability to quickly and regularly venture into the community and purchase items on my first fancy or whim. This past Tuesday, I realized that the simple pleasures in life, like visiting the mall, aren't so simple to some. The Pink and Yellow rooms ventured out on a big yellow bus to White Marsh Mall. We left promptly at 9:45, just in time to meet all of the elderly mall walkers and moms out for an early morning trip.

Our adventures began in the pet store. The workers were kind enough to bring out dogs, cats and bunnies. The kids loved it. Then on to new adventures. Two of my students discovered the escalators. Up, they begged. So up we went. Down, they giggled, so down we went. Lo and behold, a candy store at the bottom of the escalator. In we went. In went candy into their tiny mouths. The sign clearly read, "NO taste testing." Hmmm, my students can't read! I giggled, the store manager smiled. Out we went. No more candy store for us.

They sighted it. The escalator. Up, they frantically pointed. So up we went. Down, they pleaded. So down we went. Three more times, up and down, up and down, up and down. I have never heard my students laugh like that before. All I could do was smile and laugh with them. The simple joys of childhood are all too easily overlooked and too quickly forgotten.

I am not sure if my students will remember their trip to the mall that Tuesday morning. But I hope they do. I hope they remember the mounds of candy in the new candy store. The princesses in the Disney Store. And most importantly, the ten rides up and ten rides down the escalators. I am not sure if they will, or even can remember. But I hope they do.

Retraction

Ooops. My dad faithfully reminded me yesterday that we (as educators and service providers) fall under some strict confidentiality guidelines. SO that means all pictures of my kids will be removed from my blog, and I will not be able to continue posting the pictures. Stories, however, are a completely different story! There will surely be more stories throughout the year!

Hope no one out there decided to make money off of selling my pictures. Or went to the parents of my kids and said nasty things about me! hehe.

Quiet Voice

I have never said, "Shhh, quiet voice," as many times as I did today! Adelaida, one of my youngest and smallest students, has a tendency to use her inside voice when she's outside and her outside voice when she's inside! The majority of our day today was spent by raising our index finger to our lips and shooshing her. It ended up being a game. Not really a fun game, but a game none the less! She would scream. We would shhh...she would scream louder...we would shooosh. After a while, I broke down laughing. She had to know it was a game. And she played it well! I think Adelaida just wanted to see me looking silly with my "quiet voice" stern face and my shooshing finger at my lips! During OT, the game continued. All the OT could say was, "Libby, You're going to make a great mother!" (Secretly, I think she feels sorry for me and all the shooshing I have to do!)

Besides her rather loud voice, Adelaida is a magnificent signer. She can ask, in a full sentence, for cookies, pretzels and anything else her little heart desires. She is beginning to use sign language to interact with her peers and people in the community! This is my baby who comes from a Spanish speaking home and had NO language when she came to me last year! Amazing! I love my kids.

five down...

175 left to go! For those of you who are teachers, or were teachers, or will be teachers someday, 180 is the magical number. 180 days from the first day of school until the last. 180 days of teaching AND learning. 180 days of joys and pains. (180 days until I back on the white sandy beaches in the Carribean for my first anniversary!) 180 days full of hugs, kisses, laughs, and giddy screams. 180 days with children who need more love and care than I could ever possibly provide outside of God's grace and strength. It seems completely overwhelming. I have been given 180 days to significantly impact the lives of 7 children. 180 days to meet nationally regulated standards for achievement and learning. 180 days to love on my kids like they've never been loved on before! 180 days to ensure they leave the school building better off than they were the moment they walked into my room.

I've talked about my kids so much that I thought I would post their pictures here over the next week or so! I love to brag about them and tell everyone that I really do have the cutest class! So over the next 180 days I am sure that you will hear (and see) stories of our eventful lives in the "Pink" room. WELL...here we go...

The first day of school MIkel drank strawberry milk and had a severe allergic reaction. Think "Hitch" if you've ever seen it! She was rushed to the nurses' office and then wisked away to the hospital by her parents! Never a dull moment in the life of a special educator!

"If you want me to"

Saturday evenings at Boordy Vineyard must be one of the most relaxing and romantic ways to spend an evening. The cares of the day were set aside. Worries for tomorrow were briefly forgotten. A live band played Salsa music in the background. Couples danced the night away. Friends surrounded our blankets. Picnic baskets were full of food. Little children giggled and ran around the grassy hill. Little children danced the night away, too. This evening was different from others. Children seemed to be the theme of the evening-on the dance floor. In their parents' arms. On their parents' shoulders. In a snuggly on their mother's chests. Yet to be born, still in their mothers' wombs. Children were everywhere last Saturday. Safe within their father's grip. Firmly secure in their mother's love. It made the evening that much more enjoyable.

After many wonderful (and silly) dances, Miguel and I drove home. I never expected the past to come rushing back to me as we traveled the familiar route home. A dearly loved song played over the radio; faces, friendships and emotions of the past quickly filled my mind, replacing the carefree feelings of the previous three hours. The following lyrics took me back to a time and place, not so long ago. My dear friend Charlotte had just learned that her battle with cancer was far from over, yet she embraced me as I cried over the daily trials I was walking through. She stroked my hair and sung to me, as we listened to this song of truth and hope by Ginny Owens.

I warned Miguel that as the song continued to play, I would surely begin to cry. And cry I did. I cried for the loss of a dear friend. I cried for the fact the words of the song still ring so true. I cried because sometimes the road I walk is not the way I would've chosen. I cried because the ever present valleys in life are definitely not easy. I cried because of the goodness and mercy of my Savior to walk each step of this road with me.

The pathway is broken and the signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
If You want me to

Cause I'm not who I was
When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise
You're not through with me yet
So if all of these trials
Bring me closer to You
Then I will go through fire if You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
when You lead me through a world that's not my home
but You never said it would be easy
You only said I'd never go alone

so when the whole world turns against me
and I'm all by myself
and I can't hear You answer my cries for help
I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I will go through the valley
If You want me to.

"The Buck"

The love of my life turned 24 years old on Saturday. I was going to write a blog about our time away together. I thought a nice picture of the two of us would be the perfect way to detail our time together. However, as I was leafing through pictures looking for one to post, I stumbled across these pictures...I thought they would be much more entertaining than the details of our weekend at the beach!

Several summers ago, a bunch of rowdy (and bored) singles decided it would be great fun to take a trip up to the Buck. That particular evening happened to be their annual "Mud Run." First, the boys ran. Second, the girls ran. And last, but certainly not least, the couples raced. Joshua Ayers and I joined up. Miguel and Danielle believed they could beat us. Haha, it makes me laugh even now. As the announcer gave the count down, I jumped on Josh's back. Off we went. As we ran by Danielle and Miguel, we jumped on them. Down they went. Down we went. The fun had began. We tried our very best to finish the race as couples. However, next thing I knew, Miguel had tackled me in the middle of the mud pit( picture #1). The crowd began to chant, "get him, get him!" Revenge was the only thing on my mind. The sounds of the crowd were drowned out. I had to get him back. I had to hunt him down (picture #2) And once I realized the entire stadium was staring at US, there was no way I'd be the only one covered head to toe! And oh boy did I get him (picture #3)!

Enjoy. And remember, rednecks have fun too!

Dentist

Several weeks ago I was at the dentist and received the ever dreaded news: I had a cavity! Meaning, I'd have to return and get a filling. Not so much the filling that bothered me, but the shot. That terrible horrible SHOT to numb you. Last time I had a cavity filled, I was so afraid of the shot that I went without novocaine. Yup, that's right. I was dumb enough to think that the drilling would be LESS painful than the shot. I sucked it up and managed to survived the somewhat painful filling.

This time, I determined to get the shot. As August 11th, 2pm drew closer, I got more and more nervous. Last night, no sleep. Tossing and turning. Thinking about THAT shot. Got out of bed. Thinking about THAT shot. Did my school work. Thinking about THAT shot. Drove to the dentist office this afternoon and tried to tell myself it would all be over soon. As I sat in the waiting room, the 15 minute wait felt like eternity. I began to sweat and breathe heavily. I kept sighing. The girl next to me kept staring. What was wrong with me?! So I decided to pray. But as I did, I realized how honest my prayer was. I was scared to death of THAT shot! The pain, the shoving of the needle. Now sweat was pouring down my back and forehead, literally. As the nurse called my name I thought perhaps it wasn't really my turn. How many other Elizabeths would be sitting in the waiting room who could get THAT shot in my place?

I took the long walk back to my chair. As I sat down, I began to feel lightheaded. LIBBY, you have got to pull yourself together. I was too afraid to pray. I couldn't formulate what was bothering me without feeling like I would pass out. I had passed out once before in this dentist's office, don't make me do it again. I made it to the chair. Almost there. Now I was trembling. My hands were shaking, my fists were clenched. The doctor walked in and began numbing me for THAT shot. Ok, not so bad. Then the shoving and digging began. Still not too bad. I could do this. I could make it. Then he was finished. Or was he?! One more shot, he said. One more?! I was finished with that dreaded thing. Oh no, one more and here it came. More shoving and digging. When would the agony be through?

After the shot, the rest was cake. No pain, though there was fear of another shot constantly in my mind. Three hours later, the pain of the shot is gone, but the memory is forever in my mind. Perhaps that's the novocaine that has yet to wear off????

Favorite Memories

Last night, Miguel and I had dinner with my dad, my sister, and two of my dad's coworkers. We decided to meet in Annapolis for Sushi. I love Annapolis and was overly excited to spend the evening in our state's capital. The drive down was silly and relaxing. We all drove together and discussed everything from Kristin's poem on her blog, to Amanda's job adventures, to silly little kid knock-knock jokes (thank you Sacha). The frequent comment of the evening was "Is this a game?" as Sacha tried to ask questions that were in no real need of answers. I love my family.

My dad treated us to a wonderful meal of various types of sushi. It turns out that Miguel enjoyed the sushi as much as I did. Last time we had sushi, he painstakingly ate a few pieces and refused to continue. The textures were too much for him. However, last night, he found a new love--shrimp in any form--rolls, sashimi, rolls, rolls. After dinner we walked down to Ben and Jerry's, my favorite ice cream in the world. To my delight and surprise, the Ben and Jerry's store has a plethora of choices, never before seen by my eyes. What to choose? Caramel Chunk Crunch? Straw Berry Grahm? Oatmeal Cookie dough? Ohmygoodness. Since my ice cream tastes are much broader than any other food tastes, I decided to go with a waffle cone and two different flavors. No problem, I handled it like a pro.

We parted ways with our dinner dates. They went home to take care of their Great Dane. We all decided that the beautiful evening called for a leisurely walk around the Annapolis Harbor. There were people everywhere. Young families with little kids screaming. Newlyweds on their honeymoon (at least that's what I overheard). Pregnant ladies enjoying a relaxing evening with their husbands on their boat. Tourists feeding the numerous ducks as they waddled by. And us. Miguel and I arm in arm. Sacha and Dad walking sometimes behind us, sometimes in front. It didn't matter. Last night, all I knew was that the love of my life was right next to me. He drew me closer and closer as we walked through the crowded streets. He placed his arm around me and squeezed. As the sun set in radiant reds, oranges and purples, I stopped and realized that through the clamor and happenings of the city, the wonderful man next to me was mine, all mine.

A lost love rekindled

Perhaps you are thinking "aw, Miguel and Libby did something romantic that made them fall deeper in love"...well, maybe you could say that, but not in the most "romantic" of senses!

Miguel has a new hobby, or perhaps a rekindled love of fishing. Whenever he has the chance, he takes a few spare moments on a sunny day to head to the nearest stream. He loves going alone, I think it's the tranquility of the stream (or maybe it's the ability to escape my lack of tranquility for a few brief hours?!). He always returns, boasting of his latest catch or his newest lore lost. He enjoys losing the bait because he gets to go to Wal Mart to buy new ones.

A few weeks ago, Miguel decided to invite me fishing with him. I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea (read my previous post), but I decided to brave the wilderness also known as Winter's Run. Miguel and I trapsed through the muddy water. All the while, I kept thinking of Jordan and his hook, Jordan and his hook. We found a wonderful fishing spot and the games began. I was the first to catch a fish--a nice large trout to be exact, probably 10 or so inches. Maybe I like fishing?! Then Miguel caught a baby trout. Nothing to brag about, trust me. Then me, then him. The bet was on! Who would catch the most fish?! I knew I'd win, I just had to. We decided that whoever caught the least number of fish had to plan a romantic evening for the other. I won the bet, but well...we're still waiting for the pay offs!

I was hoping that the fishing adventure would be my last. Sure it was tranquil, and sure I had a little bit of fun. BUT, it's fishing?! This past Saturday, we decided to make it a lazy Saturday--no chores, no shopping, nothing. Then it happened. These words came out of my mouth, "Why don't' we go fishing?" I am not sure what possessed me? Was I overcoming my fear of fishing hooks? Was I actually learning to like it again??

Like it indeed, overcome my fears, I think not! Every time Miguel cast his rod, I screamed. "Watch it, you're way too close!" "Miguel, move over, don't hit me!" "BABE!!!!!!!!!" The old fear lingered! Miguel was slightly confused about my paranoia. Half the time he was a quarter mile down stream from me, and there was no way his casts would get me! Then I explained the fishing hook incident. It all became clear to him...the paranoia was real.

So while Miguel had helped to rekindle my old love of fishing, he has not been able to diminish my old fear. I am sure that every fishing outing we take, I will run far behind him or duck as he casts his line.

Gone Fishin'

As a child, my grandparents had a summerhouse (well a double wide trailer) on a lake. Every summer the entire family would gather for a long weekend of food, laughter and more food. One particular summer, all of the cousins were at the lake fishing. My oldest cousin, Jordan, was probably six at the time. That would've made me 5. We are almost exactly a year apart. The adults decided that visual supervision was enough; we were mature enough to fish by ourselves. Every so often we would turn around from our fishing spot to wave hello to mom and dad. Yup, they were still there--eating crabs, talking loudly, and enjoying their brothers and sisters.

Jordan and I continued fishing. Casting, watching the bobbers just sit there untouched, reeling in, and re-casting. Not a bite, not one single one! I decided to move to a new spot farther away from my cousin. I walked far behind him, or so I thought. At the exact moment I was behind him, he cast his rod. The few seconds in between are a blur, I think I blocked them from the sheer horror of the memory. As I opened my eyes, I felt a sharp sensation in my cheek. Then a burning, then a tear of pain. Jordan's hook was STUCK in my cheek. He believed my cheek to be a bush, and he continued pulling his rod to free his hook. I quickly grabbed the line and began yelling for him to stop. Yelling. I mean the loudest yelling I could muster. I remember looking up at the house to see if anyone could hear me. Surely enough, my dad dropped the red balloon he was fidgeting with, and came running. I can still see him throwing that red balloon and running as fast as he could towards his baby!

Jordan dropped the fishing rod and began crying. Shouldn't I be the one crying?! Jordan's mom came running as well, not to see how I was, but to scream at Jordan. And oh boy did she scream! I think that boy got a beating like none other in his life! Ok, back to me and my hook!

As my dad rushed to my side, he surveyed the damage. Yup, Jordan had caught me, right in the cheek. The hook was deeply implanted. It was a nice, old rusty hook at that AND it had to come out. Since there are barbs on hooks, it had to be shoved all the way through my cheek. I remember the feeling of metal sliding through my skin. That is not a feeling I'd ever like to have again. As my dad pulled it out, I remember sobbing, not because it hurt so much, but because I was in shock. What had Jordan done to me?!! Would I have a scar? And forefront in my mind, would I have to get a tetanus shot?!

My dad quickly picked me up, and ran me up to the house for all to see. Through cries of "What happened??" "Jordan, how could you?!" and "Will she be ok?" my dad cleaned me up. It was then decided that I did not need a tetanus, but I did need to stay away from Jordan and his fishing expeditions. We quickly mended our cousin-ly friendship and went back to our fishing. Only this time, we stood on opposite sides of the lake.

A day in the life of...

Despite what many think, teachers have a VERY hard and tiresome job. We need the summers off, we really do. However, I am in my last week of teaching summer school (thank the Lord Almighty!). Today, I managed to receive a grand total of six new scratches. Through the trials and frustrations of the day, my staff and I had an enlightening moment--almost Adam Sandler or Dumb and Dumber-esque. Before I share the story, let me give some background. Mikel, the famed vicious scratcher, is also Apraxic. This means the words she thinks in her head do not come out sounding the way they should. For instance, the phrase, "Hi, Mr. Nathan!" comes out sounding like "Gi, Gigger, Gafan" at best. Unless you are in the moment and understand contextually what is happening, you will be quite lost! It can be quite comical and gives us many moments of laughing at...I mean WITH Mikel.

At the end of the day, we were all sitting around playing a great round of "Memory." (One of my students, believe it or not, was kicking our tails!) Mikel was having an unusually rough afternoon. She spent much time watching the timer tick down, other students get rewarded with candy, and the seat of the time out chair. After an intense struggle in which I came quite close to actually spanking her little rear, Mikel FINALLY came to sit down with her class.

As we were sitting around, this dialogue occured (keep in mind Mikel and her odd speech).

Mikel: Ga, Git in gour.

Amanda (my teaching assistant, with a serious tone of voice): Libby, you know in movies when you hear other languages? Like Chinese or something?
Me: Yeah?
Amanda: Well, what to us is the word McDonalds, may take them four paragraphs to say.
Amanda (with just as straight a face as tone of voice): Mikel, what language DO you speak?!

We all cracked up laughing. Obviously, Mikel speaks English, yet at times we certainly do need subtitles to understand her. Oh the joys of special ed--behavior specialist, teacher, mentor, snot wiper, knee bandager, encourager, speech pathologist and now an interpreter! I wonder how many of those I could use on my next resume??