A World Away From Here blog 7

Have you every played the game called World of Warcraft or WoW? It is a massive multi-player online role-playing game, also known as a MMORPG, and it is based on a bunch of games that the company Blizzard released called, Warcraft. It is really hard to describe this game to you if you have never played, but it is a world of many different things. It is like every role-playing game (RPG) where you have quests you have to do, things you have to get, and enemies you have to fight. There is something that makes this game unlike any other; you play with billions of other people and you can interact with them. It is like a world that exists only on the internet. When I first started playing I didn’t really interact with others because I was trying too hard to focus on playing the game, but once I figured it out…I was hooked. It is like an addiction. It is hard not to play the game every hour of everyday. So how do you combat such an addiction? For me I have to focus on my kids. I play the game when I can; IF it doesn’t interfere with my other responsibilities. The main reason I am bringing this up is because I have heard of the addiction to this game RUINING marriages, causing neglect of kids, and even not going to work/school. Why does this happen? I understand the addiction to the game; you get to be someone else and not have to worry about the problems out here in the world. The only thing bad that can happen to you in WoW is your name getting hacked and you are banned from the game for a little bit. But why are people wasting their lives with a game instead of spending time with their kids and wives/husbands? I don’t think anyone really knows. I mean I have to fight wanting to play but I FIGHT it. The game is not horrible; it is actually really fun and enjoyable, if you don’t get ganked (killed by a much higher level person/persons) all the time. I just think that the people that are so addicted need to wake up. You have lives outside of WoW. It is time to drop the mouse, remove your fingers from the WASD buttons, and shut down your monitor (it needs the rest); it is time for you to go shower, shave, and remember the beauty of this world.

a look at emotions

I am getting ready to leave for my summer internship in Texas, and I have so many emotions. I am very excited, yet nervous. I have never really been outside of my comfort zone, my home, let alone by myself. I am excited to explore new things, and to be on my own. I am trying to make lists of things that I need to pack, because I am scared that I will forget something important. As I am finishing things, like my research paper, I am feeling very overwhelmed and exhausted. Not only am I going to school, but I am also working full time. This is causing me to go to bed late and get up early in the morning. I am glad school is almost over, because I don't know how much more I can take of this schedule. It has been a long time since I did a research paper, and I have forgotten how much time it takes! I am also trying to spend as much time with my family and friends as I can before I go. I will be gone for over three months, and that is the longest that I have ever been away from them. I will be sad that I wont be able to see them, but I know we will still have communication. Thank heavens for cell phones and the internet. I know that this experience will benefit me in so many ways. It will help me broaden my horizons, and give me courage to be out on my own. It will also help me to strengthen my people skills and salesmanship skills. sometimes I have a hard time getting what I want to say across to other people. I always second guess myself. I could really use some sales skills so I can sell myself to others. This was also my first semester back to school, I cant believe how great it was. I never felt threatened or left behind. Now that the semester is ending I feel like I am closing the door to this experience, and opening another one for this summer.

My research project Blog 3

I have decided to do my research project over the sad subject of puppy mills. I am a huge animal lover and I can not stand the idea of the way these animals are being treated in these mills. I know first hand the cruelty of these mills. I begged and begged for a puppy for my eighteenth birthday. So I went online and checked out breeders. I knew exactly what I wanted; a Yorkshirer Terrier, that was until I came across the picture of this little puppy. It said Shi-Pom puppies for sale $400.00, it gave an address located near Indy. I slowly got the 400.00 and immediatly called the lady who had been running the place. I should have known something was up when the lady would not let us go to her house. As she was giving me directions I could hear what sounded like fifty dogs barking and whining. It got to me pretty hard. I sat at a little grocery store out in the middle of nowhere with my friend Curtis. The lady pulled up in an old beaten car and demanded the money before I even got to see the puppy that I had paid for. As she opened up the car door and stench of dog feces and pee hit me like a wave. But in this tiny little cage was a tiny little puppy. I was extremely shocked at the condition of this little dog. She had feces all over her and fleas were jumping off her. But still the instand I saw her eyes I could not turn away. The lady never gave me papers for my dog and as soon as I picked up Daisy Mae she jumped in her car and left. It broke my heart to see the condition she was in and I could only imagine the state the other dogs were in. I spent the next few days cleaning her and spending lot's of money at the vets. The poor dog had worms, fleas, ear mites, and was mal nutritioned. Ever since I brought her home she has been the most loyal and amazing dog. She is so sweet and I truly believe I have saved her life and I know she is thankful for that. Speaking of my dog Daisy Mae, she is looking at me with those big brown eyes because she is ready to go outside and play. I would be so lost if I did not have this beautiful dog by my side!

My dad's new house Blog 4

What a beautiful day it is outside today. I am sitting right on the back porch to my dad’s brand new house. Right where I am sitting I am noticing the newly built in ground swimming pool. I feel it calling to me and all I want to do is jump right off that diving board with a huge cannon ball. And then of course float for hours on a raft, soaking up the sun. My little dog Daisy is running around like mad she’s so excited to be outside and enjoying the sun too. However she is a little worn out from the long walk she took with me and Megan and her little dog Maddie. As I sit here I notice everything that I plan to do over the summer. My dad’s new boat is sitting within eye’s distance and I think about the fun times that are heading my way with that. The grass is such a bright green that it is breathtaking. My dad has taken his sweet time with working with the landscape around the house and it finally paid off. I just want to run through the grass playing with Daisy, but I must sit here and get as much homework done as possible. This is definitely not going to be fun hah! In only a few hours work will take over my evening and then school will be here tomorrow. So I am going to sit and relax before my life picks up again. What do you know my phone is ringing and of course playing a great Dave Matthews Band song; Two Step. It is my good friend AJ or as I call him (Pookie) and he calls me Kay May. We have been really good friends for about six years now. He is coming home from college this weekend and wants to see my parents and check out the new house. I feel like I haven’t seen him forever considering it has only been a few weeks. But anyways back to the observation of the new house. I just now noticed after sitting here that there is a place to play basketball. I do not really play much anymore. I used to be point guard, but gave that up due to a knee injury. I am thinking that it would be fun to practice some more especially since I know my nephew will be bugging me, Aunt Kar Kar, to play with him

End of school stressors! Blog 5

I am extremely thankful to have only two and a half weeks of school left, but with that, it brings loads and loads of hard work. I feel like every time I turn around a huge new project is due. I am most worried about this week. I have a ten page paper due Sunday evening for my Management course online and then a huge project due Tuesday in my Life skills class. I feel like I am studying and doing things in a circle because nothing seems to be getting done! I know that I will have no problem getting through this, but I just need to strive to do my best. I know if I set aside time to get my work done , that I am able to do this with a little bit o f ease. I understand that this will not be an easy feat to get through this last semester. I feel this semester I have let myself slip because last semester I had a GPA of 3.5 and now my grades have been slipping. I feel maybe it is because it is getting so nice outside and instead of sitting and doing my homework, I do something else like golfing, hanging with friends, or walking. This just adds to my procrastination and my grades have been affected by this. Another thing that is adding to my drop in grades and procrastination is my new promotion at work. I am now an assistant-manager and with that come a lot of responsibility. I seem to get phone calls every minute of the day and my hours have shot up tremendously. I work about 35 hrs a week and then go to school full time. I think next semester I will try and take a lot less hours so my school work will not be affected. This is because school and getting my associate's degree is more important to me. I am just ready to make it through these last weeks of school. I have begun to make time slots about what to do when so I CAN and WILL get all of my homework done. I am just ready for summer so I can actually relax for a change and lay by the pool with Megan every day. That will definitely be the life of my summer, but wait I am definitely not going to get a break because soon softball will start back up again…..ahh.

Dog Walking

Yesterday, Karmon and I met up and took our dogs on a walk. I should say our kids, because that is what they are treated like. Karmon has a little, fluff ball named Daisy. My dog is named Maddie. She is a miniature rat terrier, and believe me she definitely gets called a rat all the time. I happen to think that she’s the cutest thing in the world. She is white with black spots all over her, and she has huge, satellite like ears.
Now that I have told you a little bit about our dogs I can get on to the story about our walk. It was really hot out on Tuesday and Karmon and I decided to go for a walk with our babies instead of going to the gym. Our dogs have never met before that day and when I put Maddie in Karmon’s car the two dogs didn’t seem like they were going to get along very well. Maddie started to growl at Daisy as soon as we got into the car. To my surprise they didn’t bite each other.
We drove to Donnelly’s so that we could park the car and walk around Crawfordsville. The whole way there Maddie and Daisy had to hang there heads out the window. I have no idea why dogs do that, but they seem to love it. Karmon and I decided to walk through Wabash to see one of her friends. I have never been in Wabash before, but it was actually a really nice place. We walked around Wabash for a while with her friend, which I don’t remember his name. I am really bad with names. Then we left to go get the puppies some ice cream from Dairy Liscious.
I got a Bahama-mama, Karmon got a coke, and the dogs got vanilla ice cream. Neither one of the dogs ate their ice cream. It really amazes me that when I am eating Maddie begs for food, but when I actually get her something she doesn’t eat it. Then maddie got out of her collar and was running around Turtle Park like a maniac. She definitely made me look like a fool chasing her around in circles. I finally caught her and she jumped out of my arms again. I was thinking oh god here we go again, but this time she just rolled over and stayed. Thank god she did that because I really didn’t want to chase her all over the park again. I already had enough people looking at me as it was.

The end of the semester stresses me out!!

I am so excited that we only have two and a half weeks left of school until summer break. This semester has been a long one and it can't get over soon enough. I always seem to get burn out on school towards the middle of spring semester. I hate that I do, but I really have no control over it.
I think that maybe I get this was because I get sick of having no life besides school, work and studying. The warm, summer air is a taunt to me when I am stuck in classes or at work. I love summer and the hot weather it brings with it. It's so hard to actually get things accomplished when the weather is extremely nice. I would rather be outside enjoying the sun than be cooped up in my house studying for a test, doing homework, or writing a paper.
I do get all my work done for school, but it's definitely a struggle to do so. Classes are about to end and more and more things are being due each day. Kind of like the bloggs. I really can’t wait to be done doing writing bloggs. I believe this is my eight blogg so only four more to do. That means since we only have two weeks of school left I better get my butt in gear. I will have to write 2 bloggs this week and two next. That doesn't seem so bad, but it is when I have so many other things to do. It's totally my fault for having this many bloggs left to do, because as usual I procrastinated until now. Now its crunch time and I must get everything done.
I know that I will get everything done, because I have to try and get A’s in every class in order to be accepted into the RN nursing program. I will be upset if I don’t get in. I feel like I have put so much work into school and getting the best grades that I can, and If I don't get in I will have to go another semester re-taking classes to improve my graded. I never realized how hard it is to get into the nursing program here at Ivy Tech. I have to work really hard to get what I want and what I want most in life right is to be a nurse.

my teddy

Everyone has something that is irreplaceable to them, whether it is a loved one, a material object, or whatever. I have something that fits into that group- my teddy. I know it sounds funny that a 22 year old has a teddy bear, but he means the world to me. He is almost as old as I am. I got him when I was very young, maybe 1 or 2 years old. This bear has been with me through thick and thin. His appearance has changed throughout the years. He is no longer light brown in color; he is more of a faded brown. His once soft fur is now well worn. He used to have a little green bowtie on his neck; I have no idea what happened to it. It came off a long time ago. Where the bowtie used to be is now a hole. I sewed it up myself when I was young. I felt like I was performing surgery. There are little white treads poking out at his neck. The fur is completely rubbed off on his left arm. There is also a little hole at the end of his hand. When I was little I used to rub that arm for comfort. I sometimes find myself subconsciously rubbing it now. Most of the stuffing is gone in his left leg; it is caused from the way I used to hold him. The leather from is nose is torn off and now reveals a hard plastic nose. When I was little I used this as a weapon. Whenever my brothers would gang up on me, I would whip out my teddy and hold onto his legs and swing. The plastic nose would make contact with my brothers and then they would run off and leave me alone. They told me later how much it hurt to get hit by that nose. Whenever I come home from a hard day, the first thing I do is grab my teddy and give him a hug. He has a smell to him, a smell of home that comforts me. My family gives me a hard time about keeping my teddy for this long, but I don’t care. My teddy is my safety net, my comfort.

new school = new beginnings

I carefully tied my new Nike shoes. I grabbed my new backpack and slid it across my shoulders. The bag felt so light and stiff, for there was nothing in it but a few notebooks and some pencils. The bag smelled fresh and new and was gleaming with a color of pink. As I walked across the kitchen floor towards the door my shoes squeaked. I took a breath and opened the door. The morning light hit my face as I walked up the driveway. I could hear the birds chirping, it was as if they were saying “good morning!” I got to the top of the driveway and began my wait. It was the first day of school and I was very nervous. Not only was it my first day at school, it was my first day at a new school. I was starting my seventh grade year. That summer my family and I moved to Crawfordsville from Indianapolis. I had anticipated this day all summer and now it was finally here. The school bus pulled to a stop and it caused me stop daydreaming about my old school and friends; they were long gone. As I boarded the bus I felt like Forest Gump on his first day of school. It seemed that I was one of the last to get picked up and the selection of seats was slim. I finally found a place and parked. I sat down and rested my head on the back of the seat. The vinyl of the seat started to stick to the back of my legs and the bus smelled musty and was not appealing. As the bus started to roll down the road I said a silent prayer for strength. I knew that I would need it for what lain before me. The girl beside me turned and introduced herself. “Hi, my name is Ashley. What’s your name?” I couldn’t believe it. One minute on the bus and I already made a friend. Going to a new school was going to be easier than I thought. As I turned to introduce myself, I said another silent prayer, one of thanks.

comparing the red chevy

After reading the essay by Juli Bovard entitled “The Red Chevy,” I evaluated what trauma can do to a person. According to my “College Writer’s” book, “Psychological research has shown that people remember trauma more vividly and with more detail than other events.” In order to see if this was correct I thought about two experiences of my own, one that was traumatic and one that was enjoyable. Even though the traumatic event that I thought was no where near as traumatic as Bovard’s, but it was upsetting to me nonetheless. The traumatic event that came to mind was when I got hit with an arrow in the forehead. I can remember every detail of the event even though it happened almost fifteen years ago. I ended up in the hospital that evening and three stitches in my forehead. The other memory, the happy one, was when I got my first car when I was sixteen. I can remember a lot that happened that day too. The car was a surprise and was a special event that I shared with my family and best friend. Even though these two experiences were totally different, they were both growing elements for me. However, I don’t think that these two experiences really support that psychology research. I think everyone has their own memories and they can decide what they remember or not. I do realize that there are some occurrences that happen that you can never forget, but I have read where sometimes in a traumatic event you block things out to forget them. Like I said, this are my thoughts and opinions, and someone else may have something entirely different to say about this subject. I think it all in how the person is and how well they can carry on with their lives.

12. My Roles

My role changes dramatically throughout the course of a day. I never really thought about it until I did a workshop in a communications class. We were told to think of all the roles we play in a day. In doing this I had to walk myself through a day and saw myself changing to fit the roles of others. When I wake up in the morning I am myself. But, in being myself I must look at my roles as a person. I am a mother of four, a fiancé to John, and a freshman at Ivy Tech. In preparing to go to school, I am a fashion critique to myself, kids, and John (fiancé). I am a cook, as well as a meteorologist. I am judge and jury when the kids argue. It is my role to keep the peace, plan dinner and pay the bills.
When I am at school I am the student, however, I also take on the role of a tutor to those who ask me questions. I am an overachiever, a perfectionist, and a procrastinator in my school work. After classes I go to the house we are remodeling. There I am a painter, carpenter, drywaller, cleaner, go for, and a fiancé (should John want kisses).
When my mother calls I am a daughter. I take on the role of being the strong one. I reassure her that things are going to be okay when she misses my brother. When my friends call I am a carefree woman. If a neighbor waves I smile and wave back, forgetting the nuisance they are.
In the evening I am the guardian of my children, I am the enforcer of curfew, I am the law. At bedtime I am a storyteller and defender of the children’s fear of the dark. In my own bed I am a tired woman with four kids. I am overwhelmed with life. I am planning my next day’s meals, cleaning, and errands. I am a mother, daughter, fiancé, student, teacher, cook, maid, meteorologist, accountant, friend, and lover.
No matter what role I am or for whom I am still a thirty one year old woman. I do my best to keep life together everyone in my family. When my mom told me I could be anything I wanted I didn’t realize she meant all at once.

11. My Kyle

I was allowed no response. I was not given an opportunity to say anything. No goodbyes, no I love you, I could not try to talk you out of what you did. My advice was not asked for, my thoughts were not wanted. There was no time to stop you, because I did not realize you needed to be stopped. In the moment of loss my soul seemed to be suffocated with grief. Unexplainable sorrow, unrelievable pain, unforgiving misery. The thought of losing you seems to crash down on me in the most awkward times. It seems as though I relive you death over and over. I have wanted to pick up the phone several times to tell you what is going on in my life. Only to recall you are not there. I try to comfort myself with the thought of you being in heaven, however I am selfish, and it isn’t enough. I see your friends. Some will speak of you. Others do not mention your name, I believe it is too hard for the, to think of you being gone.
I get angry with you at times. I wish you could be here just so I could kick your ass for all of the pain you have caused so many of us. My youngest son cries for you, our mother weeps uncontrollably while I sit and watch, trying to find a comforting thing to say. There is nothing to say. You are gone. Period. You are not coming back and try as I may I cannot find the purpose in all of this. Life seems to go on. At times I wish it would stand still if only for a moment. And while I am wishing, I wish you were still alive. I wish I had seen you one more time. I wish I had held you a little longer when we hugged on Christmas. I wish I had stopped by that day and may have found a way to keep you here, if only for a little while longer. I wish I knew some way to subside the pain at times. I wish for you Kyle, all the time. I pray for you as well. I pray you are happy and at peace. I pray for me too. I pray I will get through this. I miss you Kyle. With all of my heart and soul, I miss you. I love you.

10. Horrible Timing

John and I bought a house in December. It is our dream home. We were so excited when we found the house. Between the two of us we have four children. We knew we needed a house with four bedrooms and if at all possible we needed an office for John. We lucked out. We found a house that met our needs. This house had three bedrooms downstairs and an upstairs that could be a bedroom and an office. It was a total of eighteen hundred square feet. The house needed a lot of work. John is very skilled and he was up for the challenge. I, at the time, was very excited at the opportunity to fix up a house to the way we liked. I did not realize it would be so time consuming for so long. It seems the projects are never ending. Our timing could not have been much worse. In the next two weeks we are scheduled to be in the house. Along with packing, moving, and unpacking I am forced to schedule in finals for this semester.
The bright side of this dilemma is I will be able to relax in two weeks with all of the stress of moving and finals behind me. The kids will soon be out of school as well and we will be able to focus on summer fun. The only stress AAI will have in the beginning of May once we are moved into our new home is that our kitchen cabinets will not arrive until the end of the first week of My. If I can manage a home with four kids, a fiancé and no kitchen I will be amazed! The relief to all of this is we did have the good sense to install a Jacuzzi tub, which I plan to use at every opportunity.
I have definitely learned in this process to look ahead at the possible time crunch that could be involved in any of my new adventures. I can honestly say that I do not have any plans to move again in the near future. And if I do move it will definitely not be in a fixer-upper!

9. Bailey

I have been wanting a puppy for as long as I can remember. In November, my fiancé, John gave into my wishes and allowed me to go get a puppy. I did not realize it at the time, but I was about to embark on the worst week of my life. I found an adorable little guy at the local pet store. He was a Shitzu, and only six weeks old. He was so tiny I could fit him in the palm of my hand. I named him Bailey. I was a proud owner, and took him around to everyone to show him off. He didn’t bark and was very loveable. He had white fur, mixed with brown and tan spots. His eyes were the biggest brown eyes I had ever seen and everyone I showed him to agreed, he was adorable.
The first night I had Bailey I slept very light. I was listening to make sure he was okay in a new house and very eager to take him outside if he whimpered so he wouldn’t make as mess in the house. The next morning, Bailey did not seem to have much energy and would not eat any of his food. I called the vet’s number ands explained to her my puppy’s actions. She told me to fix him some white rice and watch him closely. I did as she had told me, but Bailey did not seem interested in the rice I had made him either. By the end of the night Bailey didn’t move much and had not eaten anything all day. I called the vet again and she told us to bring him into her office. We bundled Bailey in a blanket and made the trip to the Vet. I was nervous that something was wrong with him.
While at the Vet’s, we held Bailey so she could shave the hair off of part of his leg. She took blood and tested it for Parvo. He tested negative, which was a relief. She was certain something was wrong with him, but unable to give a clear diagnosis. The vet requested we leave bailey with her overnight for observation and put him on an IV. When we left she told me to call in the morning to get a status report.
I was anxious to call when I woke the next morning, however there was no on in the vet’s office yet to take my call. At eight a.m. on the nose my call got answered and I was informed Bailey had not made it through the night. I was stunned that my puppy had only lived with me for two days.

8. Only for Meth Users

I believe a lot of good can come from implementing drug re-hab into the prison system. It is not a new idea. Most prisons do have a substance abuse program available to inmates. The idea of having a prison that is specifically for drug abusers seems to be a much needed facility. I have not done any research on this so far, but I do have some questions as to how they screen for qualified inmates. The program that I am aware of is CLIFF. CLIFF stands for Clean Living Is Freedom Forever. This program is in two of Indiana’s prisons. The program states to be used in rehabilitation of methamphetamine abusers. My concern is why only this abuser, why not for any offender who could benefit from an eighteen month substance abuse program.
I am curious to find out how much money tax payers are spending for this program. I would like to compare that figure to monies spent by taxpayers on substance abuse programs available to the public before they become part of the prison system. I do not know how long this program has been implemented, but I plan to find out the success rate of those who have completed the program. I am also curious to find out how many long term substance abuse programs have closed their doors due to non payment of insurance. From what I gather, it seems insurance will not pay for substance abuse programs, but if there is a psychiatric diagnosis, the insurance will pay for a lengthy stay in a mental ward of a hospital. Would there be a possible solution to keep substance abuse programs available to low income, non insured public? Is the only viable solution to wait until a person has spiraled so far out of control that the only help waiting for that individual is behind a razor fence?
Statistics show that a person who has successfully completed a long term substance abuse program has a better chance staying off drugs; however that success rate is one in nine. ONE person will make it while the other NINE fail. I guess the light at the end of the tunnel as far as our government sees it, is for the nine who do fail if they fail badly enough, we have a substance abuse program waiting for you. Hope your substance of choice is methamphetamine, if not you may or may not get into a program in a different prison.

reflection on Tannen essay

I found the essay written by Deborah Tannen very interesting. A lot of the information she included in the essay was pretty accurate I thought. I know that all of the information doesn’t imply to every person, because I know that everyone is different. But I do think that she did a good job of characterizing a majority of people into groups. I felt that I could relate to the essay because a lot, not everything, but a lot of the stuff she said about females was right on with me and my experiences. There are many times where I won’t speak up in class because I feel that I am talking too much and I want to give someone else a chance to speak up. That is one thing that Tannen mentioned in her essay. She also stated that many male teachers and professors like to do the “Devil’s Advocate” where they challenge the student’s answer and opinion. I have mixed emotions about this method of teaching. I like the fact that it makes you learn to defend your thoughts, but sometimes it makes me feel that I am not correct and no one likes to be wrong in front of the whole class. This method, I feel, also puts a lot of focus and attention on one certain student and I do not like to be the center of attention, all of the time. I never really thought about the different types of students and the different teaching styles that teachers use. After I read this essay I have evaluated and taken notice to the differences. I have also realized that different teaching methods help students to learn better. I know that I learn best in smaller groups. It makes me feel included and not over-whelmed. I also love when there are class discussions and everyone can put their two cents in. I love to hear the different opinions and how other people think. I think it can help broaden other people’s minds. Over in all, I really enjoyed reading this essay. I learned a lot from it and I will definitely remember this essay for future proposes.

7. Grandma's Snow Play

My first memory of playing in the snow I was very young. My excitement was contagious. My great-grandmother was my caretaker as a child. She was happy to see how excited I was about the snow falling, but that was were her excitement ended. I was around three or four years old and very anxious to be outside playing in the beautiful playground being created in right before my very eyes. I imagined tasting the small, white crystals, wondering if they tasted like the clouds. I expected to make giant snowmen and throw a few snowballs carefully rounded with my gloved hands. I was very eager to lie on my back in the snow and spread my arms and legs just like I had watched children do on television.
All of plans changed when my grandmother explained to me that we could not go outside. Instead, she explained, we were going to bring the snow into us. The thought of bringing all the snow into our house was an appealing idea. I ran out of the room and grabbed my coat from the closet. I began to wonder what Grandma was going to use to get all of the snow in the house, and where she was going to put it. She called for me to come back to the kitchen explaining I would not need my coat. Suddenly I was confused again, but I obeyed her. Quickly I threw my coat on my bed and raced down the hall back to the kitchen. When I got there I found Grandma at the back door.
Grandma told me to get in my mother’s kitchen cabinets and get a few of her pots. I did and handed them to her. Then, she told me to get a few spoons out of the drawer. I asked what we were doing, I thought she was crazy. This would take all night bringing in the snow with spoons, and we needed something bigger than my mother’s pan to hold the snow. My Grandmother explained to me then that we would pretend to cook, using the snow, when it melted we would pour the water in the sink and get new. I began to think of different things we could pretend to make. Mashed potatoes were all I could think of at the time and I began to get disappointed I wanted to make snowmen, and angels, and snowballs. My grandmother was patient and explained we would, and we did I played in the snow until my fingers ached from the coldness. We sat at the kitchen table for what seemed all night making miniature angels and snowmen. I made giant snowballs. We cooked many dishes that night and we ate each one.
When my children were very young I did as my Grandmother did. We enjoyed the snow from the inside, staying warm. We were able to use our imaginations together and come up with all kinds of things to do with the snow. While playing with them I would tell them of my Grandmother and how she had done the same thing with me as a child.

6. If Something is Going to Change Your Life, Let It

When he asked me what else I did I wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to. I was confused by his question and I am sure the look on my face said it all.
“This is it.” I replied very quickly. I was not sure if this conversation was one I wanted to venture off into. Generally, while working at a truck stop fuel desk many of the truck drivers will talk to you about anything. They have been on the road for hours or days, and some drivers have been on the road for years with no family to go home to. Regular drivers feel a sense of belonging when they stop at the same place to fuel when passing through. Their routine suddenly involves you, and they want to talk. So I was not shocked by the personal question. Some of the men could be very blatant, as if their intent was to see if they could embarrass you. Some of the girls that I worked with enjoyed flirting with them. However, I was careful to not let conversations get out of line, so I proceeded with caution.
His eyes seemed to pierce through me, but only for a moment. His gaze lowered to the change I had placed in his hand from his purchase. As he shoved the coins in his pocket he began telling me about the Ivy Tech College campus in our town. I listened to the information he offered me about the new location. I had not realized there was an Ivy Tech in town. He opened the bottle of soda he purchased, and took a swing, raised the bottle to me, as if in a toast, and said “You know you could be so much more.”
“I have been thinking about going for a long time,” I said as I watched him walk out into the parking lot.
Those hollow, unmotivated words had been my response for the past ten years when I was approached about going to college. I was not lying, I had thought about going to college since I had graduated high school. That was as far as I got. I never did anything other than think about it. This time, and I do not know why, a complete stranger impacted me with words I had heard over and over by my family. I knew that I could do more in life than be a fuel attendant in a truck stop. I had made very good grades in school, but I had lacked the confidence in myself enough to enroll in college. I heard him saying, “You know you can be so much more,” over and over in my mind. I became excited at the thought of acting on the thought of going to school, enough that I began to make phone calls inquiring on the process I would need to follow to enroll. I began my first semester at Ivy tech in January of this year, approximately three weeks after his motivating words. I have three children and I am thirty one years old. I am changing the course of my life. To the Holland driver out of Illinois, thank you.

My First Puppy

When I was younger my sisters and I wanted a puppy really bad. I remember bugging our parents almost every time we even saw a dog. My dad always said no because we didn't have time for a new puppy. I think m y mom was sort of on my sisters and my side. She loved animals as much as us. Even with our begging and pleading it didn't seem like my dad was ever going to give in to us. One day he surprised us all and gave in to our whining.
In the fourth grade my dad finally let us get a dog. It was a warm, summer day in the middle of July. My dad came home from work with an Indianapolis Star newspaper. I heard him as my mom if she wanted to buy a dog. Of course my mom said yes because she knew how badly we wanted one. There was an add in the paper for AKC registered golden retriever pups. My dad called on them and they were three hundred and fifty dollars. From my bedroom I heard him getting directions and telling the people selling the pups that we would be there in about two hours.
The ride there seemed like forever. We, at the time lived in Indianapolis and we had to drive all the way to Seymore, Indiana. Seymore was about two hours away. My sisters and I kept asking if we were almost there probably every fifteen minutes. I’m sure my parents wanted to scream.
Finally we pulled up to a long , gravel driveway and started our way down it. I was so excited that we were finally there. I could see the puppies from the car window. A lady came walking out to meet us and let us in the kennel so that we could pick out our new family member.
My dad told us he didn't care which one we chose as long as it was a boy. We chose the biggest pup of the litter. He was a rambunctious little guy. He chased us back to the car and my sister picked him up and sat him on her lap. All of us wee fighting about who got to hold him on the way home. My mom got mad and made us give him to her so that they didn't have to listen to us fight the whole two hours home.

change is good

I can't quite recall the very first time I colored my hair; I have colored it so many times that the natural color is unknown. Often times when people change their looks it can cause them to change their personalities and attitudes. I love to change my hair and appearance. I know from experience that if you feel good, and you look good, then you will have a good day. When I change my hair I do it because I like it. I always ask for and appreciate my friend’s and family’s opinion, but in the end it is my hair, and I will wear it anyway I like. I love to make changes. A lot of people are afraid of change, and I have to admit that it does frighten me at times, but anything worth doing means taking a risk. I read a book entitled “Who Moved My Cheese?” by Spencer Johnson. The book is a story of two “little people” and two mice trapped in a maze. In the story they are on a search for cheese, the cheese represents something other than cheese, like moving to a new house, getting a new job, or something that you want in your life. In the story cheese is placed in the maze everyday for the foursome. For days that is their food supply, but then one day the cheese is gone. This causes the need for change. The mice don’t dwell on the loss; they just go in search for more cheese. The “little people” freak out and don’t know what to do about their supply. The mice find a new supply of cheese and continue to live carefree. The “little people” were afraid to change and move their location. After starving for the cheese, one of the “little people” decided to look for some new cheese. The other “little person” stayed and was never heard from again. The book doesn’t imply if he died of starvation or what. The moral of the story is that people have to change in order to survive. Nothing is the same day in and day out. That is how I try to think about change. At first it may be uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but in the end it helps the person to grow.

5. A trip to jail

I could see the bouncing of the blue and red lights bouncing in the reflection of the glass. I felt the pressure of his hand on the back of my head as he guided me into the patrol car. As we began the journey across town, my mind became numb to the process I was about to endure. Frustrated at the feelings I was having, I wished I had never gone out drinking. Now I was going to jail and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all.
I heard the garage door opening. The patrol car slowed and we coasted inside. After stopping the car, the officer walked around to me and opened my door quickly. Then he ushered me to the booking room. I looked around at the barren building. There were no windows to look through. Nothing was hung on the walls, except two posters about drunk driving and the effects of drug use. The walls were dingy and yellowed. I was instructed to sit on a bench that was bolted to the floor. I was ready to get the process started. I knew once I was booked in they would remove the handcuffs. I began to get impatient and started tapping my feet loudly on the floor. I asked the officer when I would get a phone call and he only responded with a sneer. I mumbled snide remarks under my breath, then I began to think of all the problems I was going to have from getting arrested for drunk driving.
The officer instructed me to stand with my feet on the black line of tape stuck to the floor in front of a camera to get my picture taken. While IO was standing there, he took of my handcuffs. I rubbed the impression on my wrists the handcuffs had left. He informed me I was going to have to have a strip search, but we would have to wait until a female officer was available to do it. Moments later she arrived. She took me into a small room and instructed me to take off all of my clothes so she could check for any contraband (drugs or weapons) that I was not allowed to have in the jail. I believe this was the most degrading part of being arrested. It only took about five minutes for it to be done, but it felt like an eternity.
After putting on the jail issued jumpsuit I was ushered into a cell where I immediately noticed a payphone on the wall. I sure glad to see it. I immediately picked up the receiver and called a good friend explaining what had happened. She reassured me she was on her way to bond me out. I was thankful when I got home and swore to never drink and drive again.

Remembering My First Snow Blog 6

The first time it snowed; well from I can remember I must have been four or five years of age. It was Christmas Eve of 1992. We had a huge family dinner that night and as we were driving I started noticing huge bright white flakes hitting the windshield of my dad's truck. I felt like I was at the North Pole, the snow was shimmering and I just could not help but just stare at the snow. It was so amazing to watch it fall from the sky. As soon as we arrived at our destination, my dad showed me how to make snow angels. It was the best feeling ever, just laying there in the soft coolness of the snow. I soon began rolling the powdered snow into a ball and then it turned into a huge snowman. We must have spent two hours playing in the snow building that snowman. I took my bright pink scarf that was my favorite and gently wrapped it around the neck of my snowman. I used the two chocolate chip cookies that I had been saving in my pocket as the eyes of him. Just as I was admiring him in the moonlight of the night, a familiar voice starting ringing in my ears. It was my grandma shouting for us to come in and warm up by the fire. It was dinner time. I remember eating as fast as I could almost inhaling my food, just so I could run back outside! Soon after dinner, I road a sled for the very first time. I felt so refreshing to have the freezing cold snow tickled my nose as I slide down the huge hill. It seemed to take only just a little push from my dad to send me gliding through the snow at a tremendously fast pace. I can stil remember how free and alive I felt at that moment. I think my dad and I must have spent at least 4 hours that night out in the snow. For the first time I had completely forgotten about the beautifully wrapped presents underneath the garland lined Christmas Tree. I felt like Santa had given me the best present a little girl could ask for that Christmas Eve. This will stay engraved in my mind for the rest of my days, and when I have children I am going to spend another 4 hours in the snow with them.

memories of my nana II

That night we got a call that she had died. I will never forgive myself for not going to see her one last time. I felt so selfish because I wanted to go to my friends instead of visiting the only grand parent that has ever been there for me. Now she is gone and there isn’t anything that I can do about it. The thought of never seeing her again as well as going to her funeral terrified me.
Nana’s showing wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I didn’t cry too much. The fact that she was dead didn’t seem to be real yet. I also had been expecting her to die for a while. Her death wasn’t out of the blue, but she had been dying for quite some time. Me knowing that she was going to die made it a little more bearable. Although I knew this would be the last time I saw her, I didn’t want to go up to her coffin.
The walk up to her coffin seemed so long. My younger sisters and I walked up together. By this point I was crying. We got up to the side of her coffin and saw my Nana lying in the casket as if she was sleeping. She had on her favorite baby blue dress that her and I had picked out years before. It was her favorite dress, and she always told everyone that when she died that is the dress she wanted to be buried in. I touched her hand and kissed her forehead. She was extremely cold. She felt fake. She wasn’t warm and welcoming like she had once been. Seeing her made me realize that she is dead and isn’t coming back. This would be the last time I would ever see her. Once she was buried the only thing I would be able to see would be her headstone.
The drive to the cemetery was a quite ride. No one in the car said a word. I was remembering all the memories my Nana and I had shared. When I was a little kid I would spend the night with her at least once a month. At night her and I would go to her friend Ruth’s apartment to visit . Ruth always had a full candy dish. I would always eat her candy. The next morning we would get up early and go eat donuts in the main lobby. Nana had a lot of friends at her apartment complex. Everyone that lived there were old because it was a retirement complex. After we ate our donuts we would walk to the bus stop and wait for it to pick us up. We always rode the bus to go shopping. Nana loved to shop. I began to cry more because I was never going to get to spend the night with Nana ever again. We had finally arrived at the cemetery.
There was a big, black cast iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. All the headstones were flat. I remember asking my mom why all of them looked like that. She told me it was because that was the only kind that was aloud there. We drove around a black top circle and came to a stop.
The area where Nana was going to be buried was pretty. She was going to be laid to rest next to her husband. There were angel statues with a bench in between them next to her grave plot. It was a pretty spot. There were two great big trees shading the bench. It was time to go under the green tent and say our final good-byes to Nana.
The preacher began the ceremony with a prayer. I bowed my head with tears running down my cheek and listened to the prayer. When the preacher quit talking we each grabbed a flower to place on top of her casket. I chose a pink rose. After that her casket began to be lower into the ground. I walked away and sat in the car. I knew life was never going be the same because my Nana was gone.