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!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
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.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
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.
“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.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
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.
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.
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